Beyond Those Dark Eyes
by littledragoneyes
Summary: Arod has known nothing but war. But his master dies, and later Eomer hands him over to someone else, in this case, Legolas. But Arod hates him, and he wants his old one back. And will Arod ever learn the difference between a friend and an enemy?
1. Chapter 1

Hello all! I've come back with ANOTHER story about a horse. I really am obsessed with the animals of Middle-Earth. Ha! I should write about each and every one of them, from fell beasts to horses to wargs. These stories are just too easy to write about. Ain't that interesting? Well, here's the story of Arod, horse of Rohan.

Disclaimer: I own nothing. Not even Arod. But, however I own Caruryn, Adran, Ember, Knight, Patch, and Kiva. Oh, and maybe a few more.

Enjoy, and don't forget to review! Reviews make me happy!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 1:

Blood pounded in my ears, adrenaline rushing in my veins. My heart pounded fast, and my breathing ragged and panting. A sharp jerk, shriek of pain and then a dull thud of another body hitting the ground. I smirked. Finally, seventeen down for Caruryn and Arod...er, a lot more Orcs to go.

Shadows couldn't be darker than the night over me; the trees seeming to be shaking in anger as Rohan soldiers and Orcs fought fiercely. It's all I've ever known my life. Born and raised as a horse to be ridden on during wars, I've seen countless battles with Caruryn. I've always been around death and blood; so many times I don't really care about it anymore.

Cries of pain or fury rang throughout the forest, like a horrible death song that chills you right down deep to the bone. I whirled around as the rein jerked to my left, and I met another Orc. Narrowing my eyes in concentration, I reared up, kicking with sharp hooves, hitting it in the face. It hissed as my hooves hit its soft flesh. Then I twisted a bit to my right, so Caruryn could easily cleave off its head with a clean slice of his razor-sharp sword.

"Good boy, Arod!" He congratulated me, a pat on my head. I neighed and tossed my head in return. Then the nice times were over. Back to fighting.

A mess it was in that battlefield - a bloody mess indeed as well. It was a chaotic place of forest and land, Orcs and men and horses tossed from a frying pan and into the fire. Bad to worse.

Then there was a shout. "Prince Éomer!" I heard my master call. A tall man with long, blonde hair came into view, sweat on his forehead and a cut on his cheek. I gazed at him with admiration and confidence. Éomer wasn't originally the heir to the throne of Rohan, but Théodred, son of King Théoden, had died during the First Battle of the Fords of Isen. Then Éomer became the heir.

Grief and sorrow, I remember, was on his expression and face and attitude for many days before he got over his cousin's death. They were like brothers, I remember. But I do know that Brego was Théoden's horse, and he went wild and unmanageable for some time. Poor horse; he had lost his master. Master and horse alike are brothers. I think he is still in the Edoras stables at the moment, stable boys trying to help him. No doubt that he might have bitten one of them by now.

"What is it, Caruryn?"

"The Orcs are nearly finished! What shall we do with them when we are finished?"

Éomer thought for a second, while I touched noses with my friend, Firefoot. He was a gray stallion, lean and tall with powerful leg muscles. He always outran me in any race, any day. Or else he would always kill more Orcs than me. Either way, he would win any war and I would have to accept defeat grudgingly. "How many?" I challenged him, determined that maybe I could win against him someday. "Nineteen." He replied smugly, his black eyes glinting in amusement. "And you?"

I couldn't help but have a defeated scowl on my face. "Seventeen." I grunted.

He let out a neigh of laughter. "What?" I asked defensively. "You had a head start, remember? Five before I got to start!"

Firefoot's dark eyes twinkled in pleasure. "That is why, my friend, you always pick a spot in the front, not a few rows back!" He chuckled, taunting me playfully. I shrugged, feeling slightly sheepish at the fact that I did, indeed, chose a spot a few rows back. "So what, seventeen isn't that bad. Caruryn broke his wrist so he has to use his other hand for his sword, so I've got the excuse." I said.

It was his turn to snort. "That's not an excuse!" He said. "It's your fault, you reacted too late when he made you step back from that blasted Orc. Or else his wrist wouldn't be broken." Firefoot had a reprimanding look directing straight towards me. As always. He always found a way to teach me something. But the thing that he didn't realize was that I was no young foal that stole apples or sugar cubes from the market or bit the stable boys by their hands when they tried to comb my mane to free it of its tangles. I glared at him back.

"Well, I'm _sorry_ that I reacted an eighth of a second too slow, Firefoot!" I snapped.

He rolled his eyes. "Every part of a second counts, Arod, I thought you knew that."

I sighed, feeling my fiery temper beginning to burn. I was known for quite the fiery personality in me. I was also quite restless. But although I didn't know it, there was something slowly creeping up behind Firefoot while we argued about whether or not it was my fault that Caruryn got a broken wrist or not while Éomer and my master discussed the next plan.

"So what? I didn't mean to do it!"

"Still, it's your fault!"

Our argument was getting very intense. We never fought like this before, and when we did, it was never this cold and biting. Firefoot and I, were very good friends. Old friends as well. We were playmates since I was born.

I stiffened when I saw an Orc creeping up besides Firefoot, a sword ready at hand. Firefoot was still ranting on and on and on about how ashamed I should be, when I wasn't exactly listening. "Arod!" he hissed, nudging my cheek with his nose to regain my attention back to him. "Are you listening to me?"

Obviously not.

"Move, move, move!" I made a frantic dart to shove Firefoot aside. He let out a neigh of shock as he was pushed to the side, stumbling in the dark. The Orc snarled angrily at my sudden movement. Both Éomer and Firefoot was knocked to the ground by accident. Caruryn, I could feel, was tensing on me, and he swung his sword with a yell.

Though it was no use.

The Orc was already prepared for the move. It was as if it knew that my master was going to swing his sword.

And then, it was quick, fast, and unknown to my senses. I didn't even feel it. Not a single thing.

Yet it did feel weird. Odd and out of place. My back was interestingly too light. I twisted my head around to see my saddle empty, and a jolt of alarm ripped through my mind. A neigh of panic escaped my mouth, and I looked around wildly for my master. "Caruryn!" I shouted loudly. "Caruryn!"

_Please don't let him die, wherever he is,_ I prayed to myself silently.

When it seemed like years before I spotted Caruryn, not far away. My master fought with the Orc, desperately clinging onto his life as he attempted to stab the Orc. I sighed a breath of relief as he seemed okay. Only then did I look away to find Firefoot and Éomer getting up and looking around, dazed. Yet a fraction of a second I was late again like I had let Caruryn's wrist break.

I always had a terrible sense of when to look and react. I always was at the wrong place in the wrong time. And my master wasn't at all alright too. Staggering, the Orc took the advantage of my master's weak arm and grabbed his wrist. Caruryn let out a cry of pain when the Orc twisted it, and was caught off-guard.

"No!" I shouted.

Immediately, I was about to bolt towards the Orc. Time seemed to slow down as the sword was poised about Caruryn's chest. I was already running, but when time slows down, you are slow to run as well. Too late to react, as I always was, the Orc raised his sword and stabbed his chest. Curse my faults and stupidness. They always get the best of me.

Then time sped up and I crashed into the Orc, trampling it successfully to death, careful not to step on my master.

My heart beat rapidly as I searched his face and body for signs of breathing and life. His eyes were opened, glassy and almost glazed over, just staring into empty space instead of my frantic face. A trickle of blood ran down from the corner of his mouth and left a wet, dark trail as it fell onto the damp and bloodied grass. "Caruryn!" I nudged his cheek, desperate. "Caruryn!" It was like calling to nobody in the darkness of fog and coldness. "Caruryn!" I neighed again.

_Don't leave me...you promised you wouldn't..._

I felt a shadow on me, and when I looked up, it was only Éomer and Firefoot, who had looks of sorrow on their faces. I let Prince Éomer kneel by my master and felt for a pulse on his neck. His present frown turned into a deeper frown of grief and he bowed his head. For a moment, my head was spinning. Was he dead? Was he alive? Or was he unconscious? I would've been smarter and known what happen, except for the shock that was leaving me in the dust.

Firefoot stepped up besides me. I felt lost and depressed. I knew that Caruryn wasn't with me anymore. He wouldn't ever be. I lowered my head in my grief, touching his gloved hand, fogging up the scratched and dirty armor. The armor showed my white-colored face and body, tears threatening to fall that I wouldn't let.

"Arod?" Firefoot's voice was hesitant and soft.

I looked up, swallowing past the painful lump in my throat. "What?"

"A-are you okay? I mean - Caruryn..." He trailed off, his eyes shining with condolences, sadness and sympathy for me. "I'm sorry." He said quietly. "It was my fault as well. If I had been paying more attention to our surroundings than to you then - "

I cut him off. "No, it's not your fault. It's nobody's fault." I raised my grey and white colored head, my eyes glittering with a new fury at Orcs and worst of all, Sauron. "It's the Orcs and Sauron's fault. They wanted to kill all of the good Men in Middle-Earth, and that's wrong." I was shaking in fury and I wanted revenge for the kind master who raised me up since I was a young foal. Who would want to do such a thing? Only insane ones would.

Only cruel ones would.

Éomer stood up, stroking my head softly. "I'm afraid, Arod, Caruryn is...dead." He pronounced the three words I didn't want to hear, although I knew them already. I dipped my head, and he took the reins and Firefoot's as well.

Though I was feeling more hurt and lost than ever before, I knew that Éomer was probably feeling worst. He had lost his cousin. Now he had lost one of his best soldiers. One of his best friends that had supported and held him when all seemed lost in despair.

We looked around, surveying the scene, seeing Orcs and Men all lying on the ground, dead. The grass was damp with blood. "Burn all of the Orcs!" He announced to the waiting soldiers, all on horses. "And we will grieve for the dead soldiers of Rohan tonight, those who had died in great honor and value, to defend their homes and family."

If one listened carefully to his voice, then you could detect hidden grief. Something that was rare in that particular confident, brave and strong man.

Then he led us to another man, probably a mere stable boy or something. "Adran." He said. "This is Arod, horse of Caruryn and Firefoot, my horse. Take care of them, and make sure they have fresh hay and water and clean blankets. They have done well tonight." Then he walked away, leaving us.

The man that was named Adran was skinny, shy-looking and constantly nervous to be around someone with a rank as high as Prince Éomer. A jittery man that he was, he kept fumbling around us. Like he was even scared to be around Firefoot and I, although we were just horses. But it could've been the fact that we were Éomer and Caruryn's horses, I guess. He bowed low to Éomer, not saying a single word, but just leading us away, back to camp.

We had our saddles and bridles taken off, scrubbed down and fed. We were also covered with a warm blanket covering our backs and shoulders. I gulped down great mouthfuls of water while Firefoot, next to me, dove into a bucket of oats. Adran leaned against the fence casually, watching us gorge down food and water hungrily yet gratefully. "I've always wanted to be a soldier." He said quietly, more talking to himself than to us. I flicked my ears, politely letting him know that I was listening.

I wasn't so sure about Firefoot though, as noisy eating was heard from my left.

"But here I am, stuck as a servant for horses." He said jokingly. I eyed him from my bucket of hay, and swatted flies with my tail. _Is it just me...or..is he a little out of his mind...? _I thought to myself. He laughed to himself. "And you don't even understand what I'm saying! What am I doing, talking to horses?"

Firefoot also raised his head curiously to see what Adran was going on about. The camp was quiet except for crickets. He shrugged. "I knew I'd never be a soldier."

I hesitantly neared Firefoot, inching away from the man. I didn't really know what he was going on about. Something about a soldier. My knowledge of the language of men was pretty bad. I whispered, "What in the name of Mearas is he going on about?" My friend shrugged, as perplexed and confused as I was. "I don't know." He said back. "Must be a little paranoid, don't you think?" I nodded, agreeing.

"Absolutely."

As time past, then there were other soldiers entering the camp, tired and sore. There were all heading for the healing tent, where other men quickly helped them in and bandaged their wounds. Éomer appeared to Adran, and the skinny man nervously fidgeted as he stood straight, taunt as a bowstring. I watched in amusement as the two started a conversation, though Adran was much more tense than the prince. I nudged Firefoot, who kept sneaking into my bucket oats and stealing my meal. "Look," I gestured to the two.

We snickered the entire time. It was fun.

Finally, when Éomer walked away, we both quickly went back to feeding instead of snickering behind their backs. Adran reached out with a pale hand and brushed my mane out of my eyes. "Prince Éomer says that he burned all the bodies," he explained. I sniffed the air, and winced at the smell of smoke. Of course, how could I miss it?

"And Arod - since Caruryn is gone, he's going to have to find you a new master." I raised my head, unexpecting this new piece of information that reached my ears.

"I'm getting a _new_ master? Excuse me? Can you repeat that again?" I asked, dumbstruck. _No! Caruryn is mine, and always will be! No other master will be as good and kind as he was to me. No other person knows anything about me as much as Caruryn did...I don't want a new master..._

Firefoot raised an eyebrow. "He said that Éomer's going to have to find you a _new _master. Because you're still a strong horse. You're still capable of riding into battle, like me. You're not crazy like Brego, or have a broken foot or something. It would be stupid to let a good horse like you just sit around all day in the Edoras stables and do nothing." He told me, speaking slowly, like I was a toddler that didn't know anything.

I was lost for words for a minute, then, "A new master? For me?"

"Apparently."

I let out a snort and whinny at the same time. "This is stupid." I muttered.

"This is life. You ought to get used to it. It's the best you can do right now."

I quietly grumbled to myself. I didn't want a new master, although it would do me good. All I wanted was Caruryn, but he was gone. If he was gone, then I wouldn't want another master. Not one. Not anyone. They could try to tame me all they want, but I would buck and rear and trample them until they were a bucket of slop. Even if I had to go mad like Brego did. I vowed silently to that.

Now full, Adran took away my bucket of oats, and Firefoot's as well, to his dismay. As he kept yelling for Adran to bring back his dinner, I leaned against the fence post lightly as sleepiness swept over me. Men were all around me, laughing and talking and drinking to their victory, but my little world around me was fading into darkness as I fell asleep...

* * *

><p>Sorry, it's a little too short to be a chapter. I'm working on trying to extend chapters without making it slow and boring.<p>

So how'd you like that, the story of Arod? Hopefully you like it. :)

Now just click that little link right there, at the bottom of the page - right there, it says "Review Chapter". Do you see it? You should. Now click it and review! :D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	2. Chapter 2

Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 2:

We rode out this morning, into the sun, packing up camp and leaving the freshly burned pile of Orcs behind us. And hopefully my sorrow as well.

I followed the team, this time in the back of the group, a long way from Éomer and Firefoot. I was constantly being dragged by this other soldier. Wincing, the reins bit into the corners of my mouth as I tried to loosen his hold. Didn't he realize he was pulling just a bit too tight for me?

"Oh, forget it, Arod, you know well he's not going to loosen."

A chestnut horse besides me remarked cheerfully. "Shut up, Hasufel," I snorted and glared at him, and he silenced himself. I knew I shouldn't be hard on him, as he had lost his master, Garulf, as well in the battle last night, but how could I not? I had lost Caruryn, Firefoot was no longer by my side but up ahead, and this stupid soldier was dragging me too hard with the reins. And I was tired as well. I was not in a good mood.

I am definitely not a happy camper today.

We kept running for about an hour before I heard a loud shouting.

"Riders of Rohan! What news from the Mark?"

With a signal from Éomer, we banked a sharp left, and before coming to a stop, we encircled something, although I wasn't sure what. I peered over tall heads and horse bodies. "What are they stopping for?" Hasufel asked, also trying to see. "I don't know." I replied back truthfully. I couldn't see anything! Darn, these horses are tall! But there seemed to be some argument.

Then I heard Éomer's voice, loud and clear, though I didn't understand the language of Men very well.

Plowing through the crowd of horses, he said, "What business does an elf, a man and a dwarf have in the Riddermark?"

My eyes widened. _My lucky day. I get to meet an elf and dwarf at the same time! This should be interesting. _

Yet when nobody spoke up, the heir of Rohan didn't want to be patient. "Speak quickly!" He barked at the three. And then, a gruff yet low voice spoke. "Give me your name, horsemaster, and I shall give you mine." I guessed it to be the Dwarf's.

I heard Firefoot give a growl.

There was the sound of Éomer getting off of Firefoot, and a small thud indicating that he had dismounted fully. "I would cut off your head," he said casually, though it was dripping with full coldness and a new irritation and indignation. "_Dwarf_ - if it stood but a little higher from the ground."

Hasufel let out a chuckle. I smiled a bit.

Then a sound of a bow being pulled taunt and an arrow being prepared to shoot. A creak of wood being bent was heard as well. "You would die before your stroke fell!" My ears pricked at the sharp threat. Never had I heard anyone threaten Éomer like that before. This must be a first. Spears were instinctively thrust closer to the three men, dangerously, their pointed ends ready to unarm and defend.

"I'm Aragorn, son of Arathorn." It was the voice of a man. That meant the one who threatened Éomer was probably an Elf. I inwardly gave a wry smile. Who knew? Elves could be threatening and dangerous _and_ sing and dance well too. Odd, isn't it?

Then the one who was called Aragorn, introduced the others. "This is Gimli, son of Glóin, and Legolas, from the Woodland realm." _A Mirkwood elf and a descendant of the House of Durin. Hmph._

"We are friends of Rohan and of Théoden, your king." Aragorn said gently.

Éomer was silent. "Théoden no longer recognizes friend from foe." Then he paused for a moment before saying, "Not even his own kin." I blinked. That Grima Wormtongue. Stinking ugly lad. Should've kicked him and sent him flying into the mud when he came near me and whenever I had the chance. Knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should've, knew I should - then there was the sound of spears being withdrawn.

"Saruman has poisoned the mind of the king and claimed lordship over these lands." The heir of Rohan said. "My company are those loyal to Rohan. And for that, we are banished. The White Wizard is cunning. He walks here and there, they say, as an old man, hooded and cloaked. And everywhere his spies slip past our nets." Éomer sounded regretful for some reason. Then came Aragorn's voice once again.

"We are not spies. We track a party of Uruk-hai westward across the plain. They've taken two of our friends captive." He told Éomer

"The Uruks are destroyed. We slaughtered them during the night." Éomer sounded rather dry, though it sounded as if last night he were burdened with grief and sorrow. And he had been. "But there were two hobbits," another voice said desperately and quickly, probably Gimli, "Did you see two hobbits with them?"

"They would be small - only children to your eyes," Aragorn added helpfully.

"We left none alive." Éomer said, sounding a little apologetic. "We piled the carcasses and burned them." I flicked my ears, swallowing and trying not to think about Caruryn.

Then there was a small voice. "Dead?" The Dwarf said.

"I am sorry." Éomer apologized.

As the three grieved for their lost friends, whatever they were - Hobbits, I heard - There was a whistle. "Hasufel! Arod!" On instinct, I surged forward, and a path parted way for me and to my odd luck, Hasufel, behind me. I was trained to react on instinct immediately to that whistle and come to whoever whistled. Usually Caruryn used it, but...now he's not here, so Éomer uses it for me.

I came to a stop besides the prince, and Firefoot. I cast a wary glance at him, and he shrugged, not knowing what was going on. Éomer said, "May these horses bear you to better fortune than their former masters." He nodded to the three. "Farewell!"

My mind registered the words "These horses", "Masters", and "Farewell" faster than lightning striking the plains of Rohan. Those words were very familiar to me. It was before then that I realized that I was being given over to these...I looked at the three weary travelers. One of them was tall, rugged, and dark-haired. The next one was also tall, had pointed ears and light hair, and the third was short, had reddish brown hair and beard and was carrying a battle ax.

What the...oi Éomer! Have you gone insane?

Firefoot stared at me, and I stared back into those black-eyed depths. We were quiet for a few moments before I broke the silence. "Firefoot, what are they doing?" I asked desperately before he had to go.

"I-I don't know." He said quietly. "I think they're taking you away, by the looks of it." Then he averted my gaze and looked down at the grass with particular interest.

"What?" I neighed loudly. "No, they can't!"

I had already lost Caruryn, and many other friends. Not Firefoot as well..."Don't let them!" I mentally slapped myself for sounding childish and weak, but it was the truth. Why was everything being pulled away from me? Was it my destiny to be separated from all that I love and have befriended for so long? Was it my fate that I may die alone during battle? Was it that I wander heaven without a friend?

Firefoot was mounted again. Éomer made some last words, and now Firefoot had no choice but to do whatever Éomer told him to do. "We'll meet again, sometime soon?" He said hopefully to me. But I had just realized that there was no hope, so my head was bowed low in misery. "I guess," I whispered, feeling beaten up and lost.

My friend dipped his head. "It was nice fighting alongside you." He commented. "Farewell." And then he rode away, heading north. There was a loud thunder of hooves as horses left my side, saying their good-bye-until-we-meet-again farewells to us, departing.

And it was then that they mounted us.

I winced as one heavy Dwarf and one light-to-average heavy Elf mounted on me. Rather uncomfortable. I shifted awkwardly under the weight. I never had two riders on my back. Nor did I like it the first time.

I fumed to myself, feeling the short one nervously cling to the other one. He was squeezing his legs tightly around my stomach, making me already feel more uncomfortable than I already was, along with the heavy weight. I let out a snort of annoyance. Hasn't he ever rode a horse before? I wished he would loosen some more.

We rode to the burning carcasses, Aragorn and Hasufel leading, to where the battle had taken place last night. A large cloud of smoke drifted easily from it, floating to the sky. I felt the shorter one get off me, to my relief. The weight suddenly decreased and I felt better. Except there was still weight. I twisted my head around to glare at the pointy-eared one. He wasn't looking at me, but when he felt my glare, he turned to me, surprised.

"What?" He asked gently. I snorted and stamped my foot, as if saying, _Well? What are you waiting for? Get off! _He made a move to pat my nose gently, but instinctively I reached out and nearly bit him. He recoiled quickly with his fast reflexes, a slight scowl plastered over his fair features.

I didn't trust him or the other two. I didn't want to, probably to my high arrogance and stubborness. He stared at me a bit more, and then got off with a shrug. I glared at him, making sure he didn't come back, and then went to Hasufel.

"You know, you should be nicer to him." Hasufel remarked as I neared him. I raised my eyebrows.

"Oh? Is that so?"

"Yes."

"And why should I be? I will respond to no other than Caruryn, and you know that."

"But Caruryn's passed away, Arod, get over it. I lost Garulf as well." His words stung me like salt on a wound, and then he left me without a good retort. I stared hard at the ground, biting my lip. Why was life so difficult?

There was a shout, or else it was a scream. It was of agony and pain, and sadness and misery as well, all mixed together. I jumped an inch off the ground in surprise, and looked back at Aragorn, who was currently kneeling. It sounded like his toe was physically injured. Think it might be. I've heard enough screams of pain or misery to know the difference. I snorted and shook my mane. "What in the name of Mearas was that for?" Hasufel obviously sounded as annoyed as I was.

"I told you, they're paranoid. A bad case of insanity, if you ask me." I told him lightly.

He snorted. "Surely, you jest Arod?" He eyed me playfully. "A bad case of insanity - how do you know?" I rolled my eyes and nipped his ear.

"Because I do." I said. "That's why."

Then from the man, came a thoughtful voice. It reminded me so much of Caruryn, when he was trying to figure out a battle plan, that I had to grit my teeth from letting out any sort of noise that I was still grieving. A war horse must stay strong if he wants to survive. "A hobbit lay here, and the other." I turned to look at them all curiously. "What's a hobbit?" Hasufel mused aloud. I shrugged. "I dunno."

Aragorn kept low to the ground, as if searching for something. "They crawled." Aragorn also had Legolas and Gimli's attention, and they followed him. I took a step forward, watching them. I also didn't want to get left behind. Although I didn't like our new companions and masters, I didn't want Orcs to spring out and kill both Hasufel and I. "Their hands were bound." Then, "Their bonds were cut." As if to prove his point, he held up a broken length of rope.

"Oh!" Hasufel said brightly. "I know what a hobbit is. I almost trampled one last night - I should know. Those poor little things." He shook his head. "Well?" I demanded. "What are they?"

The chestnut horse replied, "Oh...they're small." He said loftily, his gaze towards me, though his eyes a foot above my head, his expression curious and mildly dreamy, as if he were thinking back to them.

I snorted, rolling my eyes. "And?"

"Uh...they have curly heads. Well the two of them had it. And quite hairy feet. And they were small. Like children." He said thoughtfully.

I sighed. "You're hopeless." I muttered under my breath.

"I heard that!" Hasufel's loud and talkative voice echoed in the plains. Snorting, I followed the three travelers to the edge of the forest. "Where are you going?" He called to me. I didn't look back, but answered, "What does it look like I'm doing? I'm going with them."

"Arod! There are things in that forest, didn't you see them last night?"

Looking back, I gave him an annoyed look. "Yes, because I really had time to observe the world around me while Orcs attack from every side and Caruryn dying and Firefoot scolding me. Yes, I really think so, don't you?" I snapped at him, irritated. Hasufel looked a little hurt, but followed me. I sighed, knowing that I should apologize, but now really wasn't the time.

The travelers were far ahead, so I picked up a faster speed to catch up. They seemed rather desperate to find whoever they needed the find. The hobbits, or whatever they exactly were. "Orc blood!" The smaller one said, looking disgusted as he examined the fluids on a leaf, and tasting them too, before spitting it out.

"These are strange tracks," Aragorn said, ignoring his friend's commenting of Orc blood. He still looked to the ground, his keen Ranger eyes trained to pick up trails.

"The air is so close here." The Dwarf said, looking around.

"This forest is old. Very old. Full of memories...and _anger_." Legolas said. "The trees are speaking to each other." But a part of me took the words, "trees", "speaking", and "memories" and my mind reacted to the combination. "Hasufel!" I whispered excitedly.

He looked interested, like I had just introduced him to a new toy of some sort. "What?"

"Listen! The trees - they're talking!"

I wasn't just copying what pointy-eared said, I could actually hear it. Whisperings about Orcs and someone named Saruman...then cutting the trees down. I could hear about the battle and how horrible it was. The trees were actually alive. They weren't just swaying their branches in the breeze...talking trees...I looked back at the chestnut horse. His eyes were full of wonder and excitement. "I can hear them!" He said happily.

Aragorn spoke sharply, "Gimli!"

I broke out of my listening and looked to them. "Huh?" The Dwarf looked confused.

"Lower your axe!"

"Oh!" Gimli did so, but still looked perplexed at why he was told to. Pointy-ears decided to tell him why. "They have feelings, my friend." He put in helpfully. "The Elves began it: waking up the trees, teaching them to speak."

Hasufel looked at me in wonder. "Elves are so _cool_!" He exclaimed. I shook my head.

"Talking trees." Gimli huffed, seemingly unimpressed by this new piece of knowledge Legolas had shared with us. The Elf shot him a look of slight resentment and indignation that Aragorn missed. "What do trees have to talk about, hmm? Except the consistency of squirrel droppings." I let out a chuckle, though no one replied to the Dwarf.

Instead, the amusement had ended, and they looked alert and alarmed, all at the same time. "Aragorn, nad no ennas!" Legolas said quickly. Hasufel leaned towards me slowly, his face contorted into a look of confusion. "Eh...English?" He asked me.

"No idea."

"Man cenich?" Aragorn replied in kind, approaching pointy-ear from behind. The Elf didn't answer for a moment, but his blue eyes darted to the right, and then he replied in the language I knew, "The White Wizard approaches."

"Who?" Hasufel and I both said at the same time.

Obviously our three companions knew what was going on. But they obviously weren't as observant as they were before, because they seemed not to notice us, watching. "Do not let him speak." Aragorn warned them. "He will put a spell on us!" Readying their weapons, Aragorn wrapped his hand around the hilt of his sword, Gimli tightened his hold on his ax, and Legolas fingered his shaft of the arrow he had notched onto his bow. "We must be quick."

Then they let out a yell, and I tensed instinctively. Then the Elf and Dwarf threw their weapons, but Aragorn's sword became to hot to hold, the blade and handle growing red with heat, and he dropped it. There was a bright light emanating from the so-called White Wizard, who was a white figure. The weapons thrown were easily knocked aside, and the figure, though you couldn't see the face, was standing before them, looking supremely unconcerned by the situation.

"Bright lights," Hasufel commented dreamily. "Pretty."

I rolled my eyes and snorted, still watching.

"You are tracking the footsteps of two young hobbits." The bright figure said. His voice was calming and gentle, but low and a bit gruff. "Where are they?" Aragorn demanded all a little too roughly.

"They passed this way the day before yesterday. They met someone they did not expect. Does that comfort you?"

Apparently not.

"Who are you? Show yourself!" He demanded. Then the light gradually diminished, and there was an old man with white hair and beard, with a kind smile, dressed in white. "It cannot be!" Aragorn gasped.

Hasufel looked confused. "He fell? As in tripped? No wonder, his robes are too long."

He was lucky that nobody in this strange, small motley group could understand the horse language or else Hasufel would've been kicked out a long time ago before. Pointy-ear bowed down, and so did Gimli. Aragorn didn't notice. "Forgive me. I mistook you for Saruman." Legolas said.

The White Wizard smiled gently at the Elf. "I am Saruman." He said, but then he said, after some afterthought, "Or rather Saruman as he should have been."

"You fell!" Aragorn said incredulously.

"Through fire and water. From the lowest dungeon to the highest peak, I fought him, the Balrog of Morgoth. Until at last, I threw down my enemy and smote his ruin upon the mountainside. Darkness took me. And I strayed out of thought and time. Stars wheeled overhead and each day was as long as a life age of the earth. But it was not the end. I felt life in me again. I've been sent back until my task is done." The old man said.

"Gandalf," Aragorn breathed. I made a mental note to myself, remembering that the old man's name was Gandalf. Strange names. "Gandalf? He asked, a little confused and startled to hear his name, for some reason. "Oh yes." He mused. "That's what they used to call me. Gandalf the Grey. That was my name."

Hasufel leaned towards me, a perplexed look on his face. "Is it just me...or does he not know his name?"

I didn't even look at him. "I told you, men are paranoid." In fact, they truly were, or else I could be back at home eating buckets of hay.

They kept talking on and on, until finally they decided that it was time to move. "We should go now," I whispered to Hasufel, as they approached our hiding spot. We quickly walked all the way back to the forest, remaining out of sight until we made a burst of speed in our panic if they should find us wandering in the Fangorn Forest. We then were back into the light, quickly pretending to graze.

They took our reins. I made a face to the pointy-eared one, and Hasufel laughed. Outside the forest, Gandalf stopped a bit of a distance away from us and whistled piercingly. It was shrill and high, but it reminded me somewhat of my horse whistle.

Soon a neigh answered his whistle, and from the plain, a mighty white horse appeared, answering the call again.

My jaw must've dropped eighty miles to the center of the earth. Hasufel beat me, though. His jaw made it to a hundred miles. Darn!

"The Lord of the Horses," I breathed, my heart beating fast, and faster as he came nearer to us. I never though I would ever meet with Lord Shadowfax. Much less a horse of the race of Mearas.

"That is one of the Mearas, unless my eyes are cheated by some spell." Legolas said, noticing the new horse that came to us. Hasufel's eyes were the size of watermelons. "I sure hope not," he said desperately. I agreed.

Shadowfax approached, his pearly white head high in his nobility and dignity, and stopped in front of Gandalf, who said, "Shadowfax." He stroke his neck gently. "He's the lord of all horses, and has been my friend through many dangers."

Hasufel and I both stood side by side, frozen as the great white horse turned his attention to us. My heart skipped a beat. The lord dipped his head. "Greetings, horse friends. I am Shadowfax. What are your names?"

Hasufel answered at once. "Hasufel," he said quickly, wanting to be introduced first. I suppressed a snort. _Thanks for pushing me aside. _"Arod," I said calmly, though I was sure that some layers of protection in my voice was peeling to reveal nervousness. Shadowfax stared at me. "It's an honor to meet you." Hasufel added in, trying to peel away the horse lord's attention on me.

Shadowfax laughed, his neigh like bells of joy and mirth. Then Gandalf mounted him, pointy-ear and shorty mounted me, to my dismay, and Aragorn mounted Hasufel.

And then the three of us rode off into the distance, across the plains.

* * *

><p>There, like I promised, a longer chapter than the first. But I doubt that made any of a difference anyways.<p>

8/22/11: A good 4000 words now. ;D

Oh Arod. Will you ever cope with pointy-ear and shorty?

Please review! :D *Holds up brownies* Plus thanks to whoever read this story!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	3. Chapter 3

Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 3:

After traveling many miles, we reached the kingdom of Rohan. Edoras. A mere, fairly big hill with many homes built on it, and on the very top, the Golden Hall of Meduseld.

_Finally._

We paused for a moment, the three travelers and one White Wizard now in a gray cloak, letting the steeds regain their breath and rest for a minute or so. As we rested, they gazed on to Edoras, wondering what evil has befallen it now. "Edoras and the Golden Hall of Meduseld." Gandalf said, as if explaining what was there, even though everyone of us knew. Even us horses knew. "There dwells Théoden, King of Rohan, whose mind is overthrown. Saruman's hold over King Théoden is now very strong."

I huffed. No wonder why that pale-faced Wormtongue was now living in there, and was mysteriously always stalking poor Lady Èowyn. I can still remember her screaming and shouting at him to stay away from her. Yes, that was an interesting event.

With a final warning, Gandalf said, "Be careful what you say. Do not look for welcome here."

Fine with me. I'll welcome my oats and hay, thank you very much.

And then break time was over. Spurring us forward, we raced across the remaining piece of land. I passed all-too familiar scenery. I can still remember the way I ran with my mother and father when I was released outside the stables to train my legs to become one of a war horse. Muscular, strong, and lean. I sniffed the air, taking in great, deep gulps of air and filling my lungs. It even smelled the same.

Yet there was one difference.

A black flag, embroidered with gold and red thread and lining all around the edges of the flag, surrounding a single white horse with gold, drifted from somewhere, lazily on the wind. It floated over my head. Glancing at it, I saw it land near Aragorn and Hasufel as they came in from the rear. I frowned, and caught Hasufel's gaze, who looked quite startled to see it, but we could do nothing about it.

"It's a bad omen." Hasufel said quietly as we trotted into Edoras.

"What, that nobody's picking it up?"

"Well, yeah, that too. But...it gives me the shudders." He looked at me with big brown eyes. "The flag of Rohan fell to the ground. Nobody bothered to pick it up..."

We were receiving sidelong looks from the villagers. Some were a little stunned to see us, some were a little disgusted. Some were suspicious. Some wore slightly expressionless faces. Hmm. Some greetings war horses get. Do we need to have familiar captains, lieutenants, generals, or even mere soldiers to be on our backs to be recognized and be praised for?

"You'll find more cheer in a graveyard." Gimli commented.

Our masters dismounted us, much to my relief. My back was beginning to ache and become stiff.

I remembered being born and raised here, in the stables. I hadn't been back in a month so far. Once our riders dismounted (Much to my relief - my sore back was becoming stiff now) and we were seperated by three stable boys for each of us horses. Shadowfax, of course, mighty and noble-looking as he was, was taken to one of the bigger stables, and cleaner ones, while we were pulled off to the side like regular war horses.

I eyed my old stable longingly, which was just across from the stable I was now in. I could remember every hole in the wood, wall, and corner. I remembered that I could peek through the holes to spy on the outside world.

But here, in this new stable, it must've been redone, because it smelled new and there were no holes. Hasufel was placed besides me. Though next to him was another horse. Another chestnut horse, like Hasufel, but he was slightly older than us two. Just a bit more experience, a bit more knowledge, and a bit more strategy and tactics that he can execute properly. His name? Brego.

He eyed Hasufel, who looked at me nervously.

"So, tell me, Arod and Hasufel, where do you come from?" Shadowfax began a conversation as we were brushed down and given food. Hasufel obviously wanted to talk first. Like always.

"We come from Edoras, sir." He began politely. "Right in this barn. Born and raised as Rohan war horses."

A stableboy gently placed a bucket of oats in my stall and I began diving into it hungrily. The stableboy quickly jerked his hand out of my stall before as if I could accidentally eat it with my oats and his hand as well. Shadowfax and Hasufel were already beginning to speak about their different lives and commenting on each other's jokes. But what do I care? I'm starving...

"Arod?" My head shot up, alert and tense for a second, until I realized that it was just Shadowfax, his eyes gleaming with amusement. "What about you?" He asked.

"What? Oh, sorry, I wasn't paying attention..." I felt my ears grow slightly hot.

Somehow now I felt very awkward. The horse lord said, "Why don't you join our conversation?" I blinked. I wasn't very good at conversations. I liked to keep to myself usually. But I didn't know how to explain that at this moment. "Erm, okay."

Hasufel sniggered, but hid it as he went for another round of hay. "Hasufel has told me his account of the battle at Fangorn Forest. What is yours?" Shadowfax sounded interested. I swallowed nervously, thinking about the events of the past few days.

"Well...I remember there were Orcs fighting and snarling all around me when I charged into battle, with my master, Caruryn. We were both well-prepared for death and pain. We were fighting very well, cutting down each Orc in our way. Then, when all seemed well, Caruryn called for the prince and they were discussing something I didn't understand. And the prince's horse, Firefoot, who was also my friend, was talking to me. It was a mild argument about who killed more Orcs in the battle, but then it turned into a miscommunication, and finally, he was yelling at me for a bad mistake I did." To my embarassment, I sounded regretful.

And I was. If I had been smarter, at least a bit more focused, then Caruryn's wrist wouldn't have been broken. "And then...behind Firefoot there was an Orc, faking that it was dead. It had a sword in his hand was going to kill the prince." Memories were a silent flashback, only pictures of what happened. "And I saw the Orc, so I shoved aside Firefoot, but in my frenzy, Caruryn was knocked off me and the Orc killed him."

My voice was full of sorrow. "I didn't mean for him to die."

Hasufel and Shadowfax had both stopped eating and was curiously listening quietly to what I had to say.

"And so that's why you don't treat that Prince of Mirkwood very well?" Shadowfax asked gently. I blinked and shook my head slightly, breaking out of my trance.

"Sorry, what?"

"Legolas. The Prince of Mirkwood." He was very patient with me.

"Who?" I had no idea what he was talking about. Hasufel sighed.

"Pointy-ears." He told me, rolling his eyes. "Oh!" I exclaimed, remembering. "Yes, him. What about him?" Hasufel looked like he was going to die of my stupidness. "You don't like him, do you?" he asked.

I thought for a minute, considering Hasufel's words. "Well, I don't not like him..."

"You hate him." Hasufel finished. I stared at him, feeling uncomfortable. "I remember him innocently walking in the stables and when he tried to brush your mane, you nearly snapped off his hand. Which, if I'm not mistaken, implies that you do hate him."

"Not that much!" I objected. "It's just..."

"So you do hate him. Why?"

I sighed, giving in. "Okay, fine, I admit it, I don't favor him. Why, I'm not so sure. Maybe it's because of Caruryn or something..." Shadowfax seemed to read my mind easily. "You don't like him because you want Caruryn back. You feel guilty that you were being careless and got Caruryn hurt, didn't you?" I shrugged. "Yeah, I guess it might be that."

"And you've grown up to be a war horse." I looked at the horse lord. Now that was just plain creepy. He could read my mind exactly, although I couldn't even put the words in the right way to make it easy for them to understand. What is with those Mearas horses...reading minds and all that hullabaloo..."Your father and mother were war horses as well. They were both disciplined, forceful, and exposed you to the vulnerabilities of life and war. I don't think they were very good parents." He mused.

I stared in shock. How did he know these things?

"And they raised you as they fought in battles. You've seen battle scars on your father before. Whenever you did something wrong, by mistake, they would scold you harshly as if you were in the army as well. You've been raised and born as a war horse. You don't know the difference between a friend and enemy. You don't trust anyone, don't you?" He asked quietly.

"H-how - what, why - how do you know of these things?" I asked incredulously. I never shared anything like that with anyone, not even Firefoot! Shadowfax merely smiled. "I belonged to the House of Eorl, Lord of Rohan. I saw you growing up in these stables. I watched your life and your parents. They were Ember and Knight, weren't they? The two toughest, reliable, and stubborn horses that I had ever met in my life."

I snorted, indignation flashing in my dark eyes. "They were not stubborn!" I snapped, forgetting my manners to present to the horse lord. "They were good parents..."

"Yes, but they never gave you the same respect that you had for them, didn't you? You wanted to follow them into war. I remember that stable boy dragging you back into the stables when they went out. You were so caught up in those depths that you didn't realize that war isn't all that fun."

"I did not think it was fun!"

"Seems like you did."

I pouted, biting back a sharp retort, feeling very annoyed at this point. Who was he to tell me what I thought and felt? I was my own horse and spirit, and he was his. Mind your own business, horse lord. No offense anyways.

I sighed, giving up. "Okay, fine, maybe it was a bit of fun and games," I admitted, mostly to myself instead of speaking to them. "But still, I was raised to be like this. Wasn't I?" Somehow, I didn't feel very convinced, even at my own words of persuasion.

Nobody said anything while I thought to myself. Why did I want to go to war that badly? Was it merely of my pride and arrogance, or was it because I really did want to defend Edoras and Rohan?

Or was it because I wanted glory and honor all to myself?

I could never tell. Nor would I ever know.

Except _someone_ barged right into the stables. Everyone quieted and stared at a single man, sweating slightly, as he chose a random horse. "Hey!" The horse neighed. "Wormtongue!"

The pale, dark-haired man swore as he fumbled with the saddle and the bridle, and nearly dropped it in a hurry. The horse, which was now that I recognized to be Vin, a dark chestnut with a white mark on his forehead. He was a...rather fiery and restless horse...very arrogant and proud at times...I wouldn't favor him if I were a soldier and had to ride him. And an interesting level of...short temper too. And curses often...

Vin glared at Wormtongue. "What's your problem?" He snapped.

Did I mention he also had a temper? Think I did...

The pale man ignored Vin's sharp retorts mixed with swearing and leapt on him, galloping out of the stables, and from the sound of it, leaving Edoras.

We were speechless and stunned for a good five minutes.

Maybe more.

"But back to the main topic," Hasufel said quickly, breaking the intense silence that had ominously drifted into the barn and hung over our heads like dark storm clouds floating in to make a storm. "You haven't really answered the question completely. Why do you hate him?"

I snorted. "I don't know! And I thought I already told you. It's because of Caruryn. Now he's gone, I don't know what to do, and now I was dragged away from my friends and now I'm stuck with shorty who weighs eight tons and a pointy-ear. I don't want those to be my master!" I hissed.

"Anger issues," Hasufel mused quietly, under his breath.

"I heard that!"

Angrily, I dove into my oats, chewing hard until I swallowed. I eyed a particularly large oat. _That can be Hasufel's head, and then I go, Hmm, I'm hungry, I want oats! And then_ - I plunged my head into the bucket and closed my teeth around that large oat, _And then, bam, he's gone! _I swallowed.

I raised my head as I sensed someone staring at me intently.

"What?" I asked Shadowfax, the one who was staring at me, trying to calm down. He then shook his head, as if breaking out of a trance, and muttered, "Nothing."

I cast Hasufel a side-glance of confusion. He didn't return my gaze. Shrugging, I kept eating. _Suit yourself. _

* * *

><p>I woke up the next day. I yawned and stood up for another day.<p>

Hay was tossed into my stall all around me, and I eagerly ate my breakfast. Morning had arrived sooner than I had intended it to be. Time flies easily before you know it.

The sound of hooves clomping in the barn reached my ears quickly. My head shot up, as well as Shadowfax and Hasufel's heads. We looked on curiously and quietly as a weary horse was brought into our barn and placed in a stall near us.

Hasufel, as usual, was bright and cheerful and talkative. "Hello!" He called to the horse friendly. "What's your name?"

The horse tiredly looked up at us before saying a quiet word, "Willow." I ran my gaze over his skinny yet lean body. There were a few scratches here and there, and his breath was ragged and panting, as if he had come from a long run. And it seemed that he did.

Horse stable boys milled over him, scrubbing down his dirt and sweat and tending to the scratches on his body. They combed out his hair, freeing it off tangles gently and giving him blankets, food and water. Then they left after they seemed satisfied with their job done. Willow, the horse, finally looked as us nervously before his eyes widened at Shadowfax.

I rolled my eyes. Willow dipped his head in honor. "My lord." He said calmly. "It is a great honor to be in your presence."

I raised my eyebrows. This guy really knew his manners even when he was tired and crabby-looking. "I am Arod," I said gently, trying to sound polite. Then Hasufel introduced himself, and we asked for his story, though slowly so he wouldn't get himself too confused. _Slowly does the trick. No rushing, _I remembered my mother telling me.

Hmph. Strategic mothers...

"Wild men attacked my village. They are moving westfold as we speak. They burn down everything they see, every house and every barn, and also killing as they go. My master's wife sent her children, Eothain and Freda, I don't know if you've seen them yet, but they are here, I presume - she sent them with me to go to Edoras, here."

Shadowfax scowled for the first time in anger. "Saruman." He said, the only word he said throughout the explanation of why Willow was here.

"But why would he do such a thing?" Hasufel's voice was fearful.

"He fears Sauron, I suppose." I guessed, joining in for the conversation. "He's driven mad by his fear of Sauron, and now he is under his command. And this is what Saruman goes and does."

In the midst of our conversation, Gandalf enters the barn, a staff in one hand, his face determined and stern, talking to the rugged, tall ranger man I had been traveling with earlier. We immediately stopped talking to each other and watched as audiences.

"There is no way out of that of ravine. Theoden is walking into a trap. He thinks he is leading them to safety but what he'll get is a massacre. Theoden has a strong hold but I fear for him. I fear for the survival of Rohan. He will need you before the end there, Aragorn. The people of Rohan will need you. The defenses have to hold." Gandalf said, pausing as he entered Shadowfax's stall, his hand resting on his shoulder.

"They will hold," the other man said, which earlier I had learned was Aragorn.

Gandalf sighed, and then said, "The Grey Pilgrim. That is what they used to call me. Three hundred lives of men have walked this earth and now, I have no time. Good luck. My search will not be in vain. Look to my coming. At first light of the fifth day at dawn, look to the East."

"Go."

The old wizard mounted Shadowfax. "Farewell, my friends," Shadowfax neighed before he charged deliberately out of his stall and out of the barn, into the wilderness and beyond.

Aragorn stood there, sighing, before he headed out as well.

"What was that all about?" Willow asked us. I shrugged. "I don't know. They're doing something now, and I don't want to know it."

* * *

><p>Goody ol' Arod.<p>

This either might've been a too short chapter, or maybe a slow one. I have no idea. Chapters will be posted soon, as always. Because I post things way too quickly, either way.

Please review :DD

I baked a fresh plate of cookies. *Holds them up eagerly* Come and get them! ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	4. Chapter 4

_Beyond Those Dark Eyes_ indeed is coming to an end...so sad...wow, that was fast...:(

Oh well. Hope you liked this story! I may or may not do another story on LoTR...hang on, I might do Brego and one of the fell beasts...yeah, you'll never know 'til later.

For my fellow New England/East Coast friends in America: (August 25, Thursday): Eek! Take cover for Hurricane Irene! A very rare storm and hurricane coming our way. I think. Sunday's definitely raining buckets. Monday, maybe. Hope we don't flood. Just check out channel 47 or something. Gah! Must finish this chapter before then! (I did)

Yes I live in New England/East Coast area. More specifically north eastern Massachusetts. (_**GO ANDOVER**_!) So I'm not in that big of a trouble - I'm exaggerating. New Jersey's in trouble. Maybe New York too. I don't know, I'm not a meteorologist.

Hmph. First, Steve Jobs resigns, and then the earthquakes on the east coast...now a hurricane (maybe) - I think the apocalypse is on us. What's next?

Hey - on the BETTER side, maybe if we're lucky Hurricane Irene will blow some tropical birds up to Massachusetts. (Up here!) That's good...for you birdy people. Maybe I should keep my windows open...hmm...

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 12:

Must I say it again?

Yes, indeed, Middle-Earth has made history and its mark.

We got to stay in Minas Tirith for a period of time. "We", meaning Brego, Firefoot, Patch, Kiva, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, Gandalf, Shadowfax, Laypril, Windfola, Stybba (Merry's pony) and many others, and me of course.

Aragorn is now King of Gondor, married to an elven lady of Rivendell named Arwen. Laypril couldn't stop bragging. Help me.

Also, Faramir, who is the Steward of Gondor's second son, married Éowyn. It was very sweet. Although Éowyn liked Aragorn, she ended up marrying Faramir. Windfola couldn't stop bragging too. Help me a second time, will you?

Oh yes, Éomer became King of Rohan as well. Firefoot is bragging. Help me a third time.

Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were bowed down to by King Aragorn and Queen Arwen. I mean, Stybba was bragging too about how everybody was finally shorter than those Hobbits. He's bragging.

And me?

Hello, I'm the narrator of Arod. You are all seeing this from my point of view, aren't you?

And I came all this way from Rohan, losing Caruryn and Hasufel, gaining friends, seeing life in a different way other than war, living in the moment, became friends with both a Dwarf and Elf Prince and do I get a single thing to brag about?

Nah.

Well...scratch that. I do get something to brag about.

Like, how in Minas Tirith, I found my parents again. Ember and Knight, two great war horses, now retired. Not sure why they are in Gondor, but they decided to just stay there for a while. I can still remember them laughing and celebrating my luck of how I got through the war.

"That's my boy!" Knight cheered.

So I bragged about that.

_And_, I got to brag much later, that Kiva and I were now mates for life.

Oh yes, Brego and Firefoot danced the entire night. It was amusing. Yet I didn't think so, but then it was delightful to hear myself teasing Brego and Laypril as they became mates, and Firefoot and that Ebony she-horse I don't even know too well became mates too.

My years have been exhilirating.

Though we did visit our old friends' graves.

And this year was the last we would do.

Together, Shadowfax, Brego, Laypril, Firefoot, Ebony, Kiva, and I wandered back into Rohan and all the old places. Legolas had set me free to roam Rohan as a free war horse, if you wanted to know. I'm proud to be a survivor of the War of the Ring.

"Faithful servant yet master's bane, Lightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane."

Shadowfax read to us Snowmane's tombstone, now blossoming with fresh flowers and lush green grass. We bowed our heads down, remembering our old friend who was fairly quiet. I closed my eyes and remembered when I had so willingly ducked under that wretched fell beast and let him take Snowmane instead. I was stupid that time, but fate did decide it.

After that, we went back to Rohan. I visited the place where the wolves of Isengard attacked and killed Hasufel. Though the people and horses alike were buried, I could still feel Hasufel's presence whenever I step there again, welcoming, warm and friendly.

"_You did well, Arod_," I could hear him whisper to me. "_You have saved Middle-Earth_." I closed my eyes and breathed in fresh wind and the scent of Hasufel. "No," I whispered back. "I wouldn't have won it if you weren't there to help."

"_I died half-way." _He chuckled.

"Yes, you did, but you taught me some things that if you didn't, I wouldn't have been there to save Middle-Earth."

"Who are you whispering to?" Kiva asked me, trotting up besides me and touching my cheek gently. I shook my head and looked at her. "Nothing, you're imagining it."

Kiva gave me one of those "I-know-you're-lying-but-I'll-leave-you-now" looks that I knew so well. With a smirk, we followed everybody else to our next small visit.

And much, much, later, Shadowfax said to all of us, after we visited the place where the battle at Fangorn Forest took place, "My good, faithful, friends, I'm afraid my time in Middle-Earth has come to an end." He sounded apologetic.

"What?" We all asked, dumbfounded. "You're _leaving_?"

Shadowfax looked away to the West sheepishly and my heart sank. "Yes." He said quietly. "My master, Gandalf, has decided to set sail West to Valinor. And he bids me go with him as well." I sighed.

"But you _can't_ go." Firefoot said bluntly, taking a step forward. "You just _can't_."

My mind was reeling. Shadowfax? Leaving? _Now_? No! He can't go now...

I swallowed, breathing in deeply, and remembered Caruryn and Hasufel. I nodded, much to everybody's belief, except Kiva, who seemed to understand my thoughts as well. "If that is what you want to do, Shadowfax," I said slowly. "Then may your life in Valinor be blessed and long until the end of you days."

The great white horse lord smiled when he saw me understand.

The others reluctantly agreed after some thought, murmuring their farewells.

"You were a great horse lord."

"We won't forget you."

"Ever."

"You won't forget us?"

"No," Shadowfax laughed at how childish the question sounded when it blurted out from my mouth. I, Arod, who was a full grown, mature war horse, actually said something like that. I grinned. "OF course not. Maybe I will see each one of you when I am in Valinor."

Ebony was curious. "But I thought you were going on the last ship ready to depart from the Grey Havens with the Elves."

The great white horse lord replied, "Yes. But others will not hesitate to build great grey ships and sail nonetheless." Shadowfax looked at me. "Arod, I feel you will meet me when Prince Legolas sails, soon."

I blinked. "Alright." _Then I have nothing to worry about._

For a few minutes, we were silent, just listening to the serene quietness and freedom. The wind gently caressed our faces and the tall grass tickled our feet as the wind blew it around. "Let us ride to the Grey Havens. Gandalf will be waiting." Shadowfax then decided for us, and so we agreed, walking, talking and laughing to each other there, enjoying our last time together.

When we got there, I saw a beautiful sight. White shores, with a huge grey boat waiting. Three elves, that Shadowfax explained to us were Lady Galadriel of Lórien, Lord Celeborn of Lórien, and Lord Elrond of Rivendell. And an old, familiar face. Gandalf.

The old wizard spoke to four hobbits, in which I recognized as Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin by their shortness and the color of their hair. All of them were crying and hugging Frodo with sorrow clear on their faces.

"Where's Frodo going?" I heard Firefoot ask Shadowfax.

"He is going overseas with us as well."

"Really?" Firefoot asked. "But he is not..."

"Elven kind?" Shadowfax laughed, his deep voice merry. "No, Firefoot. Frodo has been granted passage to go to Valinor."

I asked, "Because he destroyed the One Ring and saved Middle-Earth?"

"Not quite. You see, Frodo has been stabbed by a Morgul blade of the Witch-King of Angmar, and stabbed by Shelob, a giant spider. Also, he had to carry the burden of the Ring for so long. Poor Frodo lad has been through much pain." He paused to watch Frodo hand Sam a red book.

"And so, Frodo cannot be happy in the Shire much longer. He no longer feels the beauty of Middle-Earth, so he wants to go to Valinor. Yes, he did save the Shire - and I'm currently quoting him as he speaks to Sam - though he did not save it for himself, he did it for the other Hobbits and generations to come." Shadowfax replied.

We all watched Frodo walk up onto the ship. Gandalf looked back at us waiting horses, and whistled. Shadowfax sighed. "Here, we part." He said quietly. "I bid you all good futures and lives to come. Bless you all."

He touched noses with each of us. Then the great white horse lord trotted towards the old white wizard and boarded the ship as well.

And as the last ship to leave Middle-Earth moved forward away from the shores, we silently watched as it sailed away with the wind, to the West, to whoever knows what lies there beyond just the name "Valinor".

And then we were very quiet as we left the Grey Havens. Kiva, me, Brego, Laypril, Firefoot, and Ebonny all galloped away from the docks, heading back towards Rohan to live the rest of our lives in peace.

* * *

><p>A few years later, Edoras stables greeted two newborn foals - <em>my <em>foals, I must brag.

I am a _father_. I named them after two great soldiers of Rohan: Caruryn and Hasufel.

Great Mearas, they're _twins_. Grey like Kiva, though have dark eyes like me. Quite mischevious, like me, when I was younger as well. Stealing apples and sugar cubes from the stable boys, tripping them with those long lanky legs of theirs...whatever am I to do now?

Oh boy. "Have fun!" Firefoot smirked, taunting me playfully.

"You're babysitting." I retorted. He huffed.

* * *

><p>And sometimes in the pastures, I glance up at the sky in the calm quietness, wondering with wistful thinking. As I was gazing up at the twinkling stars stitched into the velvety dark night sky, I noticed something very peculiar.<p>

"A horse with wings?" I mused to myself. "What is a horse with wings...?"

And then I decided to name it something. Just something that would be easy to remember and call it for days to come.

"Pegasus." I whispered to myself. "After Hasufel's strange middle name."

Very strange middle name indeed.

* * *

><p>After a particularly big rainstorm, I would sometimes glance outside casually and see a big puddle of water, reflecting my white horse head. I looked old. No more was I that energetic, fiery, and restless war horse. Old age certainly takes the best of you.<p>

Though sometimes Legolas and Gimli would visit me in the old stables, they would joke around at how young Legolas still looked compared to the Dwarf and I. And sometimes we would still run around Rohan and sometimes all the way to Gondor and visit Ember and Knight - well, just Knight, because Ember died a while ago. But Aragorn - or should I say _King _Aragorn - would still ride with us on Brego, that we brought along as well, to no where in particular.

I peered outside and found my gaze locked onto a certain pair of dark eyes in the water, staring straight back at me.

And every now and then, I wonder: What are truly beyond those dark eyes?

* * *

><p>I AM FINISHED! No, not that I'm delighted that my story is finally over and I can get away from FanFiction and all, but I AM FINISHED!<p>

Oh, what shall I write next...Brego? Fell beast? Buckbeack/Nagini/Scabbers from Harry Potter? I have noooo idea...hey, how about you tell me and whichever animal gets the most votes will be the next story? No? Yes? Maybe so?

So the animals are this: Brego, Fell beast, Eagle (though that may be a short story), Buckbeak, Nagini, Scabbers...yeah, think that's it. MIght have to think some more to get more animals in, but those are your votes...

REVIEW PLEASE! :D

But it depends if I feel like doing animals or not, because I might as well just start something that has to do with a human girl named Fay...*wiggles eyebrows*

Oh well.

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	5. Chapter 5

Thanks to all who read this story - seems pretty popular. And when Gimli is riding Arod - I haven't seen the movie in a while or read the book for a bit so I'm mainly using a script of the entire movie online - I'm not sure if he was riding specifically Arod, so I'll be using him. (Using my imagination) The script doesn't specify who it is he's riding. Tell me if it was a different horse and I'll change it.

8/23/11: I figured it out. It's not Arod. Well, I'll be using my creative license, then, and let's pretend it's Arod, shall we?

Sorry for the delay of this chapter. Was a bit busy.

But heads up - I'll be gone for this weekend to New York, so I won't be updating for those two days. So hopefully I can squeeze another chapter in for this story before the weekend. We'll see.

Enjoy (or you can hate, either way works for me) and review! :D

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 4:

Before we went to Helm's Deep, we had a bit of trouble...with Brego.

In the stables, the chestnut horse reared, his brown eyes looking troubled. Two men with ropes tried to control him, but in vain, Brego couldn't be tamed. "Poor lad," Hasufel whispered besides me. "He's seen one too many wars." Then he looked at me. "Do you think I'll go crazy like that by the time we finish this war?"

I stared up at the rearing horse. "I don't want to think about it." I said weakly.

Then I saw Aragorn approach us in the stables. One of the Rohan men said to him, "That horse is half mad, my lord. There's nothing you can do. Leave him."

Aragorn, goody ol' him, ignored their warnings.

He came slowly towards Brego, who kept rearing, snorting and tossing his head. Aragorn slowly and steadily, looked up to the poor horse, speaking to him in two languages. One of them, I recognized to be Rohirric, and the other, I guessed, to be Elvish. But I couldn't be very sure.

Brego seemed quite content with it.

He ceased his crazy rearing, and Aragorn took one of his ropes by his halter. Seeing that all was fine, one of the Rohan men left. As he kept speaking to it in soft Rohirric and Elvish, he untied the rope from the bridle easily. It was a wonder how he managed to get Brego under control. I saw the maniac and craziness leave the brown eyes, and it became gentle. Then the other Rohan men left.

In Elvish, Aragorn spoke to Brego, "Fæste, stille nú, fæste, stille nú. Lac is drefed, gefrægon." (Fast, quiet now, fast, quiet now. A battle is stirred up, they heard.)

Hasufel looked to me. "Any idea what he's saying?" He muttered quietly.

I raised an eyebrow. "Why would I know?"

He shrugged. "Because you have pointy-ears, I don't?"

"Hwæt nemnað ðe?" Aragorn continued. (What is your name?)

Èowyn entered the stall, watching us with slight interest while tending to her horse, Windfola. Then, as if she knew what Aragorn was doing, she said, "His name is Brego. He was my cousin's horse."

Aragorn looked at her, still stroking Brego's neck, then turned to the horse."Brego? Ðin nama is cynglic." (Brego? Your name is kingly.) Quietly, he said, "Man le trasta, Brego?" (What troubles you, Brego?)

"Man cenich?" (What did you see?)

Brego looked at him, and muttered, though Aragorn didn't understand it, "War troubles me. I wish for peace. I wish..."

Éowyn said, "I've heard of the magic of Elves, but I did not look for it in a Ranger from the North." She looked at him, "You speak as one of their own."

"I was raised in Rivendell, for a time." He said casually.

"Rivendell," Hasufel mused besides me. "I want to go there too. Or maybe Lórien. Or maybe even Mirkwood...Hey!" He exclaimed softly. I looked to him, un-amused. "You could take me to Mirkwood, with that Legolas! If, that is, he takes you with him when he goes home..."

"Yeah. Sure. Not happening."

_No way am I ever going to go with Legolas. Who knows, there might be more Legolas-es in that place._

With a final judgement, Aragorn decided for Brego's future. "Turn this fellow free. He has seen enough of war."

* * *

><p>Trudging along, I followed the long line of men, women, and children, the line snaking around on the hills like a giant worm, slithering on its belly. We were all heading to Helm's Deep today. Once again, the journey was unbearable. I had the Dwarf on my back. He was still very nervous of me, clinging onto the saddle desperately and holding the reins too tightly, tugging against my mouth. Even though Éowyn was holding onto my reins loosely, Gimli was once again too tight.<p>

I had to shake my head to loosen it, but then the Dwarf would just hold on tighter.

I tossed my head, annoyed. I had better things to do than pout about these things.

"It's true you don't see many dwarf women. And in fact, they are so alike in voice and appearance, they are often mistaken for dwarf men." Gimli told Éowyn, whom, in fact, was the younger sister of Éomer. I treated her especially nicely, mostly because I had liked Éomer, and Éomer reminded me of Firefoot.

Which made me all the more sadder to think about my old friend.

But Gimli, no, that was a different story. He was annoying the heck out of me. It was bad already with his fear of horses. And then with his ridiculously stupid stories - sorry, no. I was ready to toss him off my back and stomp him senseless.

Well, at least pointy-ears wasn't here. At the moment. He was busy scouting ahead.

When Éowyn looked at Aragorn, confused, he motioned with his hand at his chin. "It's the beard," he mouthed to her. I looked back as well, and saw Hasufel walking besides Aragorn, quite content with him. He gave me a small smile when our gazes met. I gave him the help-me-here-the-dwarf-is-driving-me-insane look. He merely smirked and whinnied back.

Gimli kept talking. "And this in turn has given rise to the belief that there are no dwarf women. And the dwarves just, spring out of holes in the ground!" Éowyn let out a merry laugh. "Which is of course ridiculous!" I snorted, feeling my patience giving way beneath my hooves. It was so boring to listen to him...nothing to do...

I decided for a little amusement and entertainment. Bolting forward, as if I had just seen an Orc, I made a small but unexpected fast dash to move up in the line. Éowyn lost her loose grip on the reins. Gimli let out a "Whoa!" of surprise and fell off, to my pleasure. I smirked at him with victory. That was better than listening to his weird Dwarf stories for the entire trip.

I am bloody brilliant.

"It's alright! It's alright. Nobody panic. That was deliberate. It was deliberate." He said, calming down everybody as he got up and wiped the dirt off his pants. I snorted. Of course it was deliberate. Aragorn and Éowyn both were laughing their heads off, and before then, Éowyn moved forward to help Gimli up.

Théoden, on Snowmane, (I overheard their conversation), spoke to Aragorn, a grin upon his lips. "I have not seen my niece smile in a long time." he said. With a thoughtful look on his face, he said, "She was a girl when they brought her father back dead. Cut down by Orcs."

"She watched her mother succumb to grief. And she was left alone to tend her king in growing fear. Doomed to wait upon an old man who should have loved her as a father."

I watched Éowyn look back at Aragorn, some growing interest of her to the Ranger.

Hasfuel chuckled at what I did, and called to me. "Nice one, Arod. Plunging right into a whole crowd just to knock him off. Real smooth move." I grinned a bit at his comment, before heading on with the rest of the people to Helm's Deep.

It was before then that we made a stop alongside a hill.

Grazing the grass, I nibbled on a weed, listening to the conversations all around while Hasufel decided to take the freedom and liberty of speaking to his other friends.

Èowyn was going around to the refugees, asking if they wanted anymore of the stew she made. "Gimli?" She asked, approaching the Dwarf, who refused politely. I smirked. "No, I couldn't. I really couldn't."

_Sure...you couldn't resist but throw out that dreadful soup she made. I'm fairly delighted I am a horse._

Then she decided to go for Aragorn. I eyed them two only a few yards away with interest. I would like to see Aragorn's reaction to the stew.

"I made some stew. It isn't much, but it's hot." She explained, handing him a bowl with some soup. I lifted my muzzle slightly from the ground, as to not attract attention, and sniffed the air as the wind blew some of the scent down to me.

I almost puked.

"Thank you." Aragorn said, desperately trying not to give away any sign that it smelled...and no doubt, would _taste_...bad.

He tasted it, and then looked up at her, grimacing and the horrible taste. He nods, giving her a weak smile. I was trying not to guffaw at the hilarity of the situation. "Mm. It's good." He said weakly.

Èowyn's face lit up. "Really?" I bet that's the first good comment she received about the stew.

"Mmm."

With a smile, she walked away, obviously going to feed Aragorn the entire pot. I smirked as the Ranger easily turned to pour out the stew on the grass, but to his alarm she turned around. Recovering quickly, he tried to pretend he was eating again, but ended up spilling a bit on his hand.

He was dang lucky Èowyn didn't see a thing.

"My Uncle told me a strange thing." She said. He said that you rode to war with Thengel, my grandfather. But he must be mistaken."

_That _made me raise my head. This would be interesting.

Aragorn grinned a little at the memory. "King Théoden has a good memory." He commented. "He was only a small child at the time."

I frowned. Aragorn? That old? Whoa...

"Then you must be at least sixty." Èowyn tried to figure out his age, but looked like she was failing. "Seventy? But you cannot be eighty!"

_Oh no...no...that is just creepy..._

With a chuckle, Aragorn determined his age. "Eighty-seven."

My eyes bulged out. _EIGHTY-SEVEN?_ Good grief, he's ancient! I am only...15?

"You are one of the Dúnedain. A descendant of Númenor, blessed with long life. It was said that your race had passed into legend." She mused. My ears flicked. Oh. Well. If he's a descendant of Númenor...then it doesn't count. Only if he isn't, then eighty-seven, and no white hair is impressive. Never mind.

"There are few of us left. The Northern Kingdom was destroyed long ago." Aragorn told her.

She looked apologetic when she heard that. "I'm sorry!" She apologized. "Please eat." She added, before leaving.

And this time she stayed to make sure he did eat.

* * *

><p>"Hey, what's this?"<p>

Hasufel arrived besides me, nudging the soup that Aragorn had spilled earlier. "Arod?" He asked.

I didn't look up from eating. "Hmm?"

"What's this stuff? Is this the soup from Èowyn's stew? I heard the others say it's good, but they sounded sarcastic. I'm going to try it."

My head shot up. "Hey, Hasufel, no! Don't eat..."

Hasufel bolted away. "Ewww!" I could hear him wailing. "This is disgusssting!" A few other horses stared at him.

No doubt finding somewhere to throw up.

I shook my head and returned to eating grass.

And this time she stayed to make sure he did eat.

* * *

><p>Laying down besides Hasufel (after he felt better from eating that dreaded stew), I felt more content than I had in days. I raised my head a bit to gaze at the stars. Firefoot must be looking at those stars as well, couldn't he be?<p>

That is, if he were outside.

Hasufel noticed that I was still awake, and started looking up at the stars, too. "That one looks like a horse with wings," He commented quietly besides me. I looked at him strangely. "Where?"

He gestured with his nose at the stars, not specifying at all where he was pointing to. "There." I looked in the general direction, but still didn't see anything but twinkling diamonds in the night sky. "What? Where?"

The chestnut horse sighed, and then pointed with his nose again, in a general direction. "Look, see those brightish stars over there? See how they form a square form? Well, imagine that to be its chest." He tried to explain. "And then those six stars? Well, imagine three of them to be a leg, and the other three, another leg! One of the legs should be curved around as well. And those last four stars are its neck and head. The brightest one is its nose."

I stared at it hard. I could see which stars he was looking at, alright, but I couldn't see the horse. Or the wings.

After I had pouted to him, he let out a snort of exasperation. "Use your imagination, Arod. Life isn't always battle tactics and strength and logic and war. Look at it. Imagination and creativity should help you find the flying horse."

I raised my eyebrows. "I don't see nothin'."

"You know what? Forget it, we'll do it tomorrow." Hasufel said with a yawn. He lowered his head and rested silently, probably going to sleep. I glared up at the night sky. Stupid horse. Stupid flying horse, I should say. There really wasn't anything in the sky, was there? Just stupid...imagination. Horses couldn't fly. Not ever.

Not that I was being stubborn, of course, but sorry, horses _don't fly_.

Seemingly, the wind was soft and gentle in my ears, singing songs. It made me lower my head onto the grass, prickling my face. It lulled me to sleep, my eyelids drooping over and my breathing slowing down. Muscles relaxing, I began breathing in and out.

Sleep was never more desired than I had ever wanted it to be.

* * *

><p>Gimli, of course, decided to leave Éowyn alone the next day and strike up a different conversation with someone else. But at least he wasn't riding on me. Nobody was. I snorted, shaking my mane to rid of the lingering flies, and then tossed my head, to loosen the reins some more, only to remember that Gimli wasn't on my back. It had become a daily routine for me.<p>

Snort, shake, toss. Snort, shake, toss. Snort, shake, toss. Snort, shake toss. Snort shake, toss. Snort shake toss. Snort shake, toss. Snort shake, toss. Snort shake, toss. Snort, shake -

Okay, well, you get the idea.

I cast Hasufel a bored glance. He just shrugged. Sighing, I returned my gaze to the front of me. A small child was stumbling slightly, drenched in sweat and tiredness. I looked on as he tried to keep up with his family before getting lost in the crowd of tall, old, young, and short men, women, and other children.

He let out a cry of "Mama!" Before tripping on a hidden rock and sprawled on the ground.

Taking pity on the poor small child, I moved closer to him, taking his collar gently with my teeth and pulling him up without hurting him. He got up, and looked at me with wide eyes.

For the first time, I looked at eyes full of innocence and hope and determinaton to get to Helm's Deep with the rest of his family. It was instantaneous for my thoughts. Though I didn't know the future or what was going to happen, I could tell that he would make a great leader, if he ever wanted to be one. That look was the look of a natural leader. Like Éomer or something.

Or maybe Aragorn. Who knows?

I nudged his damp back towards the right direction where I had last seen the mother with a quiet whinny. The boy looked at where I had directed with my nose, and before leaving, patted my nose and took off running in that direction.

I heard Hasufel trot up besides me. "That was kind of you." He remarked. I shrugged. "He was lost, that's all."

Really.

Watching the boy disappear into the crowd, there was suddenly a loud shout, followed by Aragorn mounting Hasufel quickly. My friend looked a bit startled, but then realized what was going to happen. "What's going on?" I neighed loudly over the commotion.

Then I heard it. "Wargs! We are under attack!" The villagers began panicking, much to my disgust.

"All riders to the head of the column!" yelled Théoden.

Gimli frantically pulled at the saddle on my back, trying to get on, but obviously couldn't. I was constantly being pulled to one side, and then the other when he couldn't get on. I let out a neigh of irritation at him. "C'mon get me up here, I'm a rider." Two soldiers tried to help him, but he just fell off the other side. "Argh!"

I glared at some horses, who were watching. "What are you laughing at?" I snapped, annoyed. "You try this short and stubby Dwarf who probably weighs more than you and I combine on your back!" Really. I didn't see what was so funny. The soldiers finally lifted Gimli up into the air and placed him on my back. He wobbled a bit, and I had to balance carefully for him not to fall over.

It only made them laugh harder.

After that, Gimli was a bunch more tense on me than before. Probably doesn't want to fall over. Though I would let him gladly. Serves him right.

I raced forward with Hasufel by my side, feeling an adrenaline rush coming fast. For the first time in a long while, I could run instead of walk. I could feel the wind rush at my face and stretch my legs and muscles, my lungs pumping with fresh, cool air. But I couldn't race for long, because of the women and children scrambling for safety at the help of Éowyn.

"Forward, forward, march forward." Gimli said rather impatiently to a few children who were passing by. For once, I agreed with him. When the crowd finally cleared, we galloped quickly to the rest of the Rohan soldiers. I could see row by row in front of me.

I could almost hear Firefoot's chuckling voice besides me. _"That is why, my friend, you always pick a spot in the front, not a few rows back!"_

Narrowing my eyes in concentration, I felt the urge to make it to the front. My gaze swept over the large mass, picking out spots I could worm my way into, since the other horses wouldn't bother to make way for me. Besides, I was only Arod, son of Ember and Knight, another speck of Rohan war horses in thousands. Why would they make way for me?

I plunged forward when a horse shifted over to the left. I felt Gimli's reins tightened nervously at the sudden plunge. Another space opened up, and I took it gratefully. As horses and master combined spread out in the field, I took the spots that led me to the very front, quickly before other horses could get it. And then, finally, I had it. The very front. Well, it was close enough. I wasn't picky anymore. My neck instinctively lowered and my hooves moved faster.

Those wargs are mine. _All mine_.

Just before we were going to crash into those beasts full speed, there was a flash of silvery-blonde in my vision and a light yank of my saddle, and then added weight on my back, slowing me down a bit. I snorted. Stupid pointy-ears.

But there's no time to pout, I reminded myself. You've got yourself prey.

See, I'm no typical horse who thinks himself (or herself) as prey. I don't think of myself as food for horrible beasts and monsters. If I did, then I wouldn't want to follow my parents into war. I wouldn't want to fight. I wouldn't want to be a Rohan war horse. But I do. So I think myself as a predator, like those wargs. Except in a good way.

Gimli seemed to agree with me as well. That is, he did until a warg leapt at me full speed. I reared in panic, not knowing that it was there in the first place. Stepping back, I thrashed out my hooves, striking fur and softness. When I lowered myself back down to the ground, I felt lightness on my back, and only a gentle weight instead of heaviness. What the-?

Twisting around, I saw only an Elf on my back instead of a Dwarf as well. That explains.

But then where was Gimli? I looked around the battlefield, seeing dead men, horses, and orcs lying wounded or dead on the ground. It looked fairly normal for me. Then my eye spied a small person, a helmet on his head, a battle ax in his hands, and bushy reddish hair with a beard. Hmm. Who else could that be? I asked myself sarcastically.

"Bring your pretty face to my axe!" He threatened a riderless warg, who was advancing towards him. Fur was bristling omniously on its back, and saliva drooled from its mouth as it bared its long, sharp white fangs at him with a harsh snarl. I would've watched this scene until there was a jerk of my reins, and then a pull. Legolas had made me move towards them, and I had no choice but to move wherever he commanded me to go.

I felt the Elf's body tensing a slight bit as he drew another arrow with his bow and fired at the warg. It hit the warg remarkably well, but I couldn't count that for him. The warg is about my size. Anyone could shoot something my size. "Argh! That counts as mine!" The Dwarf pouted.

But to my laughter, the dead warg fell on Gimli. I could've doubled over and crack up, if this situation I was currently in wasn't so tense. "Argh! Stinking creature! Argh!" Gimli yelled.

I would've laughed until Legolas had pulled on the reins. I whirled around, following his command simultaneously. What was he doing? He kept jerking and pulling on my reins until I felt my head was ready to be ripped off. Was he looking for someone? I twisted my head around to see his elven face, which was currently filled with some sort of worry and concern and...fear?

Why would Elf boy be scared?

Then it hit me. Like how it probably hit him.

Cold dread and fear snaked around to me, like a black snake slithering towards me, except it wasn't a snake. It was a feeling, but a feeling I didn't want to feel or particularly liked.

I would've laughed until Legolas had pulled on the reins. I whirled around, following his command simultaneously. What was he doing? He kept jerking and pulling on my reins until I felt my head was ready to be ripped off. Was he looking for someone? I twisted my head around to see his Elven face, which was currently filled with some sort of worry and concern and...fear?

Why would Elf boy be scared?

Then it hit me. Like how it probably hit him.

Cold dread and fear snaked around to me, like a black snake slithering towards me, except it wasn't a snake. It was a feeling, but a feeling I didn't want to feel or particularly liked.

I would've laughed until Legolas had pulled on the reins. I whirled around, following his command simultaneously. What was he doing? He kept jerking and pulling on my reins until I felt my head was ready to be ripped off. Was he looking for someone? I twisted my head around to see his fair Elven face, which was currently filled with some sort of worry and concern and...fear?

Why would Elf boy be scared?

Then it hit me. Like how it probably hit him.

Cold dread and fear snaked around to me, like a black snake slithering towards me, except it wasn't a snake. It was a feeling, but a feeling I didn't want to feel or particularly liked. It snaked around my body, creeping up around me and then into my body, delving into the veins of my pulsing blood, finding its way into my heart. It was suffocating me as well. Fear was choking the life out of me, and I didn't like it one single bit, I assure you that.

Realization then smacked me full in the face, not helping at all with the cold fear I was feeling at the moment. This wasn't any sort of evil. It was just fear. Worry, concern, and fear. Like Elf boy on my back right now.

And for some no good reason, I had to find Hasufel.

Right now.

And little did I know, Legolas needed to find Aragorn.

Right now.

I let my instincts plow right over my common sense and I began racing off into a random direction, giving loud whinnies and neighs of "Hasufel! Where are you?" I didn't know why I was doing that, but I just felt like it was necessary.

"Hasufel!"

Was currently being joined in by a loud -

"Aragorn!"

Finally, when it seemed like Legolas had finally given up on looking for Aragorn on horseback, he decided to leap off and look for him on foot, which, remarkably, was easier, seeing that I was frantic of finding my friend. "Hasufel! Where are you, buddy?" I stopped prancing around looking like a complete idiot who lost his brain and was currently searching for it - I scanned the fields, trying to let common sense take over rather than my instincts.

Wherever Aragorn had to be, Hasufel had to be, I told myself calmly. Since Hasufel is Aragorn's mount. So did that mean I had to follow elf boy now? I think so.

Leaping over various bodies, badly hurt or dead, I was searching both for a chestnut horse or an elf. I was breathing heavily now, from both tiredness and confusion. Where in the name of Mearas were they?

After what might have seemed to be ages, I found them. Well, Hasufel first, then Legolas.

"Hasufel!" I neighed loudly, and rushed over him, stirrups swinging from my saddle. The chestnut brown horse was lying on the ground, looking beaten and worn. There was a puddle of blood, I observed, streaming from a deep gash in his neck, no doubt from a warg. The blood was circling around his head, a blood red halo of a horse angel. He was breathing rapidly and heavily, his chest heaving from the pain. "Arod," he half-rasping, half-choking, as if my name was so hard to pronounce.

I stared at him, not knowing what to do. My senses weren't working at the moment. They were frozen stiff, instead of thinking of a way to help him. "Don't worry Hasufel!" I whinnied finally, hearing desperation in my voice. "I won't let you die - I won't - " I pressed my nose to his neck, feeling the pulse of his blood bleeding the life out of him, and also feeling the blood soak my fur. I couldn't lose Hasufel – not yet! I had lost Caruryn; I wasn't going to lose another friend.

He looked up weakly at me, chuckling oddly, like this was some sort of thing he planned to trick me on his own. I raised my bloodied nose, though not his blood, but mine, and looked at his chocolate brown eyes, full of compassion and hope.

"Yes?" I asked impatiently. "Your life is on the line here, and I don't intend to leave it dangling –" Seriously. I have better things to do than listen to him.

Laughing, and then choking on his blood, I tried to help him cough up that blood by nudging his throat gently. "Arod – _cough_ – I know you've lost Caruryn before – _cough_." I nodded, still pressing my nose to his wound, which was getting worst at every word he was speaking, "And I know you've been separated from Firefoot."

I glanced at him at the sound of my best friend's name. "What are you going on about?" Then I raised my head and glared at his wound. "If this isn't going to get better, then I'm going for help. Hang on Hasufel – I'm going for – "

I was about to go for help, just as I promised him, but his front right leg shifted a bit and I was blocked by his foot. Rolling my eyes, I snorted at him. "Really, I could just step over your leg." I told him.

"You don't have to."

I turned slowly and stared at him.

"Come again?"

"I said, you don't have to go for help. It's too late, anyways," He mused quietly. My brain didn't register any of those words he said. Strange, don't you think? I stuck my face right in front of his, my eyes flashing in annoyance. "Are you _insane_?" I yelled, knowing that I shouldn't since he was hurt at the moment. "No – I'm definitely going for help, whether you like it or not. It's not too late – " Cutting myself off, I realized what he had just said.

"Hasufel?" I asked hesitantly. "You're not going to…" I trailed with my words, my mind unwillingly shutting itself down. I couldn't say it. I just couldn't. The "D" word. It rhymes with rye. Which sadly, I remembered from last week that Hasufel told me he favored them especially in his bucket of oats.

He smiled weakly. "Arod, you've been a good friend, and I want you to be a good friend to Legolas as well."

I stared at him in disbelief at what he had just said, forgetting momentarily that he was dying. "Elf boy?" I echoed. "Elf boy? I – no – I can't be friends with him! He's not – " Hasufel said in a bored tone, "Yes, yes, he's not Caruryn, I've heard." His voice became serious, "But really, be good to him. And that Dwarf. Will you? Do that for me."

Then, out of the blue, his voice became more distant, and his breathing was much more rapid, as if he was breathing faster to hang onto life just a bit more. My vision was slowly becoming blurry. "And, don't forget – "

He cut himself off, trying to gulp more breaths of air. "Don't forget what?" I pressed on, trying to urge him to speak faster before he went. "Don't forget what, Hasufel?"

"Don't forget where that flying horse is."

I rolled my eyes, despite the situation. Was right now really the right time to tell me that? "And, just thought you would like to know this – my middle name is Pegasus. Did I ever tell you that?" I shook my head, laughing weakly at his brightness and the absurdness of that middle name. "I don't know what it means, though. Could you find out for me?" His voice was feebler than I had ever heard him to be. I nodded.

"Thanks, Arod. You're a great friend." Then he raised his head at me. "And I wonder," he said, "What is beyond those dark eyes of yours?"

And then it was like that. Hasufel's eyes glazed over, distant and unclear. His body shuddered, and then there was a great heave of his flank, and then he was colder than icicles that hung from the windows the morning after the wintry blizzard. I nudged his cheek, willing the threatening tears in my eyes not to spill. I had seen death like this before. And death had taken away two of my dearest friends.

Raising my head, I felt this new fury in my body, nothing that I had ever felt before. It was exotic and interesting all at the same time. And this time I wouldn't take out my anger on elf boy and shorty like I had with Caruryn.

This time it would be all focused energy on my main target – Sauron.

* * *

><p>Ooh! Longer chapter for you guys. ;D<p>

Arod's definetely ticked off. Uh oh...

Now that the next chapter will hopefully be posted soon before I say "Ciao!", "Adios!", "再见!" (That's Chinese. Thanks to my awsomely cool Chinese background and ethnicity. Pronounced: "Zai jian!" Zai rhymes with eye and jian is like...je-an. ish.)

Okay, now that our little chinese lesson is over, please review! :D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	6. Chapter 6

Hello, folks!

Enjoy and review with a cookie or two. :D

And for things that might have seemed a bit confusing: I know how Elves and horses get along quite easily, but Arod ain't your typical horse. He's quite...stubborn and stupid when it comes to that. And sorry about Eomer and Eowyn being Theoden's kids, I forgot (silly me) - they're Theoden's niece and nephew. Heh heh. My bad.

Hmm. I think I might have gotten some of the events wrong in this chapter. Haven't watched the movie in literally ages. So if you point out any errors in the order of events here, please tell me quickly and I'll fix it! :D (And yes, that means I'm writing this story partially on memory and using a script online of the entire movies but they don't really specify if Arod is in the scene or not.)

So yes. I may have gotten something wrong. Sorry.

And thus ends _The Two Towers _and onward to _The Return of the King!_

But on to the story anyways!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 6:

We totally kicked Orc butt that night.

To our panic, Orcs did happen to get into Helm's Deep. And even into our stables. They didn't really kill any of us horses, luckily, but they took one good look around our stalls to see if there were any remaining humans left, hiding. This was rather stupid of it, because it would come near enough for us to give it an enthusiastic kick and bite each. Even a foal did it proudly.

Though it was frighteningly suspenseful and intense, we managed to make it through the night without any of the horses getting hurt. We stood there, tense and alert, listening to the horrifying sounds of battle outside. There was a horrible stench of blood and death lingering outside that drifted into the stalls when a gust of wind came by. There would be cries of pain or anger, followed by shouts and yelling. And lots of pounding.

If this battle even sounded this gruesome, I wouldn't stand a chance watching it. And that's coming from me, Arod, a war horse who've seen lots of battles myself.

The rain came a bit before the first battle roar. It was nice attempt from Mother Nature herself, wanting to wash away the fear and nervousness and dread in the air, but good Mearas, it did no good. We were still jittery and scared, waiting in the barn, not wanting to hear screaming and blood. At least the horses that weren't war horses didn't want to hear them.

Me? I was quite used to it.

Then there was this huge explosion that rocked the very ground beneath our hooves. It was nothing that I've ever heard before. It was both loud and terrifying and very much uncalled for.

We didn't know exactly what it was, or what was happening. We all knew that something bad had happened, whether it was for the Uruk-hai or the men.

However, the next best thing that happened in Helm's Deep was that Éomer and our fellow Riders of Rohan came to help out in the war. Lucky them. I would give anything to be one of them. And Shadowfax came with them, along with Gandalf. It was incredible, the way they told the story to the overflowing barn of horses. But who cares about overflows? It was rather pleasurable to have a fuller barn in the morning.

But the best thing that really happened - was that I got Firefoot back.

The best night of my life.

First, we won the war.

Second, I was surrounded by horses I knew and friends.

And third, _Firefoot was back_!

But then again, we celebrated with hearty buckets of oats and overflowing nets of hay and pails of fresh water. The stable boy who had left us earlier with the bow and arrow came back, although with a broken arm and a few nasty cuts.

But then again, he seemed alright.

Firefoot and I were having a great time too, sharing stories, like we did before. I told him about the wolves of Isengard and how I met Shadowfax as well, and how Hasufel had unfortunately and sadly died. Firefoot was fairly somber about Hasufel, but we were quickly cheered up when we switched to different topics.

The hearty celebration for us horses led on to - I don't know, a whole day? I don't quite remember. I was too tired to keep track of time. Then sleep came without my consent.

* * *

><p>The very next morning, I was awaken by a loud snoring.<p>

I groaned and blinked groggily against the sunlight. The air still smelled like a war had been raging last night - which was exactly what happened - the rain must have washed away some of the blood and scent of death, but it was still rather stinky and smelly.

Some people arrived to the barn, a little stunned to see full stables. But they coped with it, I guess, and then when they came into the shadows a little bit, I could see them all properly without the sun's glare.

Legolas patted my head gently, and I had to remember Hasufel's words to prevent myself from biting his hand off. Which was what I usually did.

He looked fairly pleased and interested that I didn't make a lunge for his hand, and led me out of the stables.

Brego was already outside with Aragorn, and Shadowfax with Gandalf. Gimli was waiting for me.

Once everybody was ready, we set off to Isengard. It was a fairly long ride, and quiet as well. Nobody spoke much, except for Brego and I, who exchanged a few words but nothing else. But I couldn't really care. I was fine with the peacefulness, trotting along besides friends. Wistfully, we passed the place of the Orc fight and where I had left Caruryn for death. The air didn't smell of smoke or death anymore. It was just a pile of ashes of the dead with memories that still haunt me.

I shook my head of those saddening thoughts and continued forward to follow Shadowfax and Brego into Fangorn Forest.

The trees still whispered and spoke to each, their heavy brown gnarled branches covered with green moss swaying in the light breezes. Sunlight didn't reach very far below the canopy of leaves, but it was enough for my eyes to adjust mildly.

Somehow, my heart felt peaceful and calm as we walked, not at all for what I was used to. There was no danger at the moment. Given the moment was quiet and serene.

As we broke through the clearing of ancient trees rooted to the spots they were given, my ears pricked forward at the sound of laughter. It was like tinkling silver bells on a frosty midwinter's day.

I cocked my head slightly at the two figures not far away in front of us, apparently smoking on their pipes and enjoying themselves as they sat, waiting for us. What interested me the most were that they were short, like children, barely like adults. Yet they looked full-grown. I looked at Brego, and he answered, "Hobbits. Remember the battle at Fangorn Forest? I nearly trampled one of those."

Ah. Those little...er, halflings.

Wait. Let me get this right here. I was given away from the Riders of Rohan to those fellow travelers just to look for two little men?

What a rip-off.

One of them hopped up with a grin, and said, "Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!" I heard Brego snort behind me. I glanced behind me, chuckling when I saw him roll his eyes in amusement.

"You young rascals! You've lead us on, and now we find you feasting and - and smoking!" Gimli finally found his voice and began scolding them, and also adding more funniness to the situation. I was delighted to hear irritation in his gruff voice of his.

"We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." One of them said smugly, while the other merely smirked at the pouting Dwarf.

"The salted pork is particularly good." He said, after some thought. I looked to my left and side-glanced the Dwarf on my back. His eyes lit up, fairly interested.

"Salted pork?"

I sniggered.

Gandalf shook his head. "Hobbits." I heard him mutter.

They kept speaking, as if nothing happened at all. "We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard."

The water was knee-deep, making me wonder exactly where it came from. I looked around curiously, taking in the ruined environment. There were metal machines of some sort littered everywhere, some toppled and broken. There were two giant towers standing in the middle, towering over everything. Looked quite battered.

"Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a wizard to manage here; locked in his tower." A giant talking tree. Hmph. That's something you don't always see everyday.

"That is Treebeard." Shadowfax whispered to me. I nodded. His voice was mighty yet ancient, and you could tell there was wisdom and age behind it clearly.

"And there Saruman must remain." Gandalf told him. "Under your guard, Treebeard."

Apparently Gimli didn't think the same. Snorting, he said. "Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." I neighed in agreement, but of course, men as they are...they don't consider horses to be very "intelligent". Which made me pout.

"No, he has no power anymore." Gandalf reassured him. I grumbled to myself. Sure he does. He may not have any powers as a wizard, but heck, he still has hands and feet and a head. You could surely make something out of that.

I heard a splash behind me as Treebeard kept rambling on and on about some nonesense. I heard something about trees growing, though. I turned to see a hobbit in the water, kneeling down and picking up a round orb, with something swirling with colors inside of it. "Pippin!" Aragorn called to him. My brain tried to memorize that name as well. So that's Pippin.

Treebeard, seeing that the attention was now on Pippin rather than him, didn't seem to mind at all that he was interrupted. "Bless my bark!" He said instead, looking surprised to see that round orb. Quickly, with some sort of nervousness in his voice, Gandalf said, "Peregrin Took, I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now!"

Reluctantly, the hobbit handed it to the old wizard, who quickly stole it away beneath his robes. Staring curiously at it, I hastily looked away when Shadowfax turned to stare at me back with that penetrating gaze of his. With a sigh, I looked up at the tower, and cringed at the mistake I made. There was a shadowy figure up there, glaring down at us. He had white robes and white hair, almost like Gandalf. I glared back. So that had to be Saruman everyone was talking about. Then he disappeared into the shadows of the towers.

* * *

><p>The men celebrated tonight. Like we horses did the night before. As they were celebrating, we didn't feel at all like celebrating. We were too tired to. But we did take the joy of listening to more stories and relaxing easily.<p>

Yet I wasn't interested at the moment.

I took the privilege of musing to myself and staring out the stable windows in my stall. There wasn't much to look at, though it was peaceful and quieter than inside the barn. Nobody was outside at the moment, except for some roaming guards. The sky was streaked with pinks and blues as the night sky loomed overhead, covering the earth as a dark, soft, velvety blanket.

Flicking my ear to swat a fly, I could hear the noises of celebration coming from inside Helm's Deep. There were laughter and much talking, and singing as well. I rested my head lightly on the window sill, looking at the night sky.

And then there was a quiet voice in my head.

_"That one looks like a horse with wings."_

Looking upwards instinctively, I didn't see a horse with wings. What was that sort of creature anyways? I sighed, glaring at the sky. What was I doing, looking at the stars and thinking of random shapes for them? It was pointless. There _was_ nothing in the stars. Hasufel was just...I don't know.

Shaking my head, I swallowed back a mutter and brought my head back to reality.

"Hey Arod?"

I looked around to see Firefoot looking at me with a friendly gaze. "What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing." He seemed like he wanted to say something. But I shook that thought off and returned to staring outside and enjoying the fresh air.

"Are you gonna eat that or what?"

I had to stare at his gaze to see what he was looking at. A lone bucket of oats stood in the corner of my stall, untouched.

"Can I have your oats?"

Slowly, I turned and stared at him with a perplexed look, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I asked mildly, cocking my head to the side and taunting him a slight bit.

"Er, can I have your oats?" He repeated, looking rather sheepish.

I pushed the bucket towards his stall slowly with my hind leg, watching his expression, and sniggering, while Firefoot stared at it hungrily.

"Knock yourself out."

* * *

><p>There you go, sixth chapter posted. I'll be back with a seventh chapter sooner or later. After I think some things through. But anyways, story's almost over, don't ya think so? You pretty much know where the story line's going to travel to, and soon Brego's going to sing:<p>

"Weeee're off to Mordor...the land of living crap of Middle-Earth...!"

Hmm. One must not simply follow the yellow brick road to Mordor.

Ah well.

DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! That little blue-purple link right there, yep, click that. Don't worry, it doesn't bite. ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	7. Chapter 7

Hello, folks!

Enjoy and review with a cookie or two. :D

And for things that might have seemed a bit confusing: I know how Elves and horses get along quite easily, but Arod ain't your typical horse. He's quite...stubborn and stupid when it comes to that. And sorry about Eomer and Eowyn being Theoden's kids, I forgot (silly me) - they're Theoden's niece and nephew. Heh heh. My bad.

Hmm. I think I might have gotten some of the events wrong in this chapter. Haven't watched the movie in literally ages. So if you point out any errors in the order of events here, please tell me quickly and I'll fix it! :D (And yes, that means I'm writing this story partially on memory and using a script online of the entire movies but they don't really specify if Arod is in the scene or not.)

So yes. I may have gotten something wrong. Sorry.

And thus ends _The Two Towers _and onward to _The Return of the King!_

But on to the story anyways!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 6:

We totally kicked Orc butt that night.

To our panic, Orcs did happen to get into Helm's Deep. And even into our stables. They didn't really kill any of us horses, luckily, but they took one good look around our stalls to see if there were any remaining humans left, hiding. This was rather stupid of it, because it would come near enough for us to give it an enthusiastic kick and bite each. Even a foal did it proudly.

Though it was frighteningly suspenseful and intense, we managed to make it through the night without any of the horses getting hurt. We stood there, tense and alert, listening to the horrifying sounds of battle outside. There was a horrible stench of blood and death lingering outside that drifted into the stalls when a gust of wind came by. There would be cries of pain or anger, followed by shouts and yelling. And lots of pounding.

If this battle even sounded this gruesome, I wouldn't stand a chance watching it. And that's coming from me, Arod, a war horse who've seen lots of battles myself.

The rain came a bit before the first battle roar. It was nice attempt from Mother Nature herself, wanting to wash away the fear and nervousness and dread in the air, but good Mearas, it did no good. We were still jittery and scared, waiting in the barn, not wanting to hear screaming and blood. At least the horses that weren't war horses didn't want to hear them.

Me? I was quite used to it.

Then there was this huge explosion that rocked the very ground beneath our hooves. It was nothing that I've ever heard before. It was both loud and terrifying and very much uncalled for.

We didn't know exactly what it was, or what was happening. We all knew that something bad had happened, whether it was for the Uruk-hai or the men.

However, the next best thing that happened in Helm's Deep was -

WE GOT TO FIGHT TOO!

The soldiers had to act quickly. The Orcs had already beaten many people, and had already entered Helm's Deep. Legolas quickly explained to me that we were going to ride out and fight. Which was perfectly fine to me. I'm a war horse. I'm proud to fight and defend.

As Gimli blew the horn of Helm Hammerhead, the horses were brought into the room, as Orcs and Uruk-hai alike both battered at the inner door, roaring and snarling and trying to break it down.

Legolas rode on my back, without a hefty Dwarf, which wasn't half-bad. I mean, Gimli's not that bad anymore...I guess he's grows on me at times.

"Forð Eorlingas!" Théoden shouted loudly, his voice echoing in the deep.

Everyone else let out their battle cries, and the doors broke down. Orcs and Uruk-hai stampeded into the room, knocking over the items and large objects that were used to block the door and keep it closed. The King led us out, sprinting across the room, with Aragorn, Legolas, and the men hot on his heels, fighting and cutting down our enemies as we swept past them.

We fought all the way down the causeway, easily knocking off the Orcs that ran up there with their swords. We crashed right into the Uruk army, not caring a single bit. All we were focused on doing was to kill and take back Helm's Deep to protect and defend.

And it went like that for a mighty long time, that is, until I saw something spectacular.

Far up and away, was a rider on a might white horse, rearing, on a tall hill. I squinted and stopped my stomping and trampling of Orcs. "Gandalf? Shadowfax?" I whispered. I wasn't sure if it was them, but I hoped it was.

"Théoden King stands alone." Gandalf said, surveying the battle scenery with particular interest. Then Èomer rode up alongside the old wizard, determination and confidence in his eyes. "Not alone," he corrected, before lifting up his sword, and shouting, "Rohirrim!"

I let out an audible gasp. "Firefoot!" I yelped with joy when I saw that familiar gray stallion, grinning down back at me.

Théoden let out a yell of happiness. "Èomer!"

Èomer shouted, "To the king!"

Gandalf and Èomer charged down the hill, a huge mass of Rohirrim soldiers running and following behind them, not wanting to miss a single Orc or Uruk-hai. The Orcs turned around to see another army charging straight towards them, unafraid. They bared their teeth and weapons, but soon had to look away and groan as the sun rose, from behind the new Rohirrim army shone down on them, hurting their eyes as they were accustomed to darkness.

And then they did crash right into them. And we defeated them, and Helm's Deep was saved.

But the best thing that really happened - was that I got Firefoot back.

The best night of my life.

First, we won the war.

Second, I was surrounded by horses I knew and friends.

And third, _Firefoot was back_!

Oh, and I got to fight. That makes me happy.

That morning, we were brought back into the stables, everyone tired to more than just exhaustion. Like everyone else, then sleep came without our consents.

* * *

><p>The very next morning, I was awaken by a loud snoring.<p>

I groaned and blinked groggily against the sunlight. How long have I slept? A day? The air still smelled like a war had been raging last night - which was exactly what happened - the rain must have washed away some of the blood and scent of death, but it was still rather stinky and smelly.

Some people arrived to the barn, a little stunned to see full stables. But they coped with it, I guess, and then when they came into the shadows a little bit, I could see them all properly without the sun's glare.

Legolas patted my head gently, and I had to remember Hasufel's words to prevent myself from biting his hand off. Which was what I usually did.

He looked fairly pleased and interested that I didn't make a lunge for his hand, and led me out of the stables.

Brego was already outside with Aragorn, and Shadowfax with Gandalf. Éomer and Théoden were there as well, so I greeted both Firefoot and Snowmane with a happy grin. Gimli was waiting for me too.

Once everybody was ready, we set off to Isengard. It was a fairly long ride, and quiet as well. Nobody spoke much, except for Brego, Firefoot and I, who exchanged a few words but nothing else. Snowmane and Shadowfax were quietly conversing between themselves. But I couldn't really care. I was fine with the peacefulness, trotting along besides friends. Wistfully, we passed the place of the Orc fight and where I had left Caruryn for death. The air didn't smell of smoke or death anymore. It was just a pile of ashes of the dead with memories that still haunt me.

I shook my head of those saddening thoughts and continued forward to follow Shadowfax and Brego into Fangorn Forest.

The trees still whispered and spoke to each, their heavy brown gnarled branches covered with green moss swaying in the light breezes. Everyone was a bit wary and cautious about it, though. The low sounds coming from the tall, ancient trees were a little startling. Sunlight didn't reach very far below the canopy of leaves, but it was enough for my eyes to adjust mildly.

Somehow, my heart felt peaceful and calm as we walked, not at all for what I was used to. There was no danger at the moment. Given the moment was quiet and serene.

As we broke through the clearing of ancient trees rooted to the spots they were given, my ears pricked forward at the sound of laughter. It was like tinkling silver bells on a frosty midwinter's day. We approached the crumbled gates encircling Isengard.

I cocked my head slightly at the two figures not far away in front of us, apparently smoking on their pipes and enjoying themselves as they sat, waiting for us. What interested me the most were that they were short, like children, barely like adults. Yet they looked full-grown. I looked at Brego, and he answered, "Hobbits. Remember the battle at Fangorn Forest? I nearly trampled one of those."

Ah. Those little...er, halflings.

Wait. Let me get this right here. I was given away from the Riders of Rohan to those fellow travelers just to look for two little men?

What a rip-off.

One of them hopped up with a grin, and said, "Welcome, my Lords, to Isengard!" I heard Brego snort behind me. I glanced behind me, chuckling when I saw him roll his eyes in amusement. Aragorn grinned above Brego.

"You young rascals! You've lead us on, and now we find you feasting and - and smoking!" Gimli finally found his voice and began scolding them, and also adding more funniness to the situation. I was delighted to hear irritation in his gruff voice of his.

"We are sitting on the field of victory, enjoying a few well-earned comforts." One of them said smugly, while the other merely smirked at the pouting Dwarf. "The salted pork is _particularly good_." He said, emphasizing that sentence to tempt Gimli. I looked to my left and side-glanced the Dwarf on my back. His eyes lit up, fairly interested.

Yep, it worked.

"Salted pork?"

I sniggered.

Gandalf shook his head. "Hobbits." I heard him mutter.

They kept speaking, as if nothing happened at all. "We're under orders from Treebeard, who's taken over management of Isengard."

The water was knee-deep, making me wonder exactly where it came from. I looked around curiously, taking in the ruined environment. There were metal machines of some sort littered everywhere, some toppled and broken. There were two giant towers standing in the middle, towering over everything. Orthanc, the tower of Isengard...looked quite battered.

"Young master Gandalf, I'm glad you've come. Wood and water, stock and stone I can master, but there's a _Wizard_ to manage here; locked in his tower." A giant talking tree said. His voice was low, yet gentle, like the trees back at the Fangorn Forest. I stared at him. Could he be from there as well?

Hmph. That's something you don't always see everyday.

"That is Treebeard." Shadowfax whispered to me. I nodded. His voice was mighty yet ancient, and you could tell there was wisdom and age behind it clearly.

The group looked around warily. I felt my skin tingling.

Aragorn spoke loudly, "Show yourself."

"Be careful; even in defeat Saruman is dangerous." The old wizard warned quietly.

Apparently Gimli didn't think the same. Snorting, he said. "Well, let's just have his head and be done with it." I neighed in agreement, but of course, men as they are...they don't consider horses to be very "intelligent". Which made me pout.

"No, we need him alive." Gandalf corrected him. "We need him to talk."

I grumbled to myself. I would've been delighted to see Gimli cleave Saruman's head off right this instant.

And then there was a voice. Scared the pee out of me, it almost did, if only Legolas' firm hold on my reins wasn't holding me steady. I looked up to see another old man, a Wizard actually, standing on the top of the tower, looking down at us with particular disgust. "You have fought many wars and slain many men Théoden king, and made peace afterwards."

I stuck my tongue out at him.

"Can we not take council together, as we once did, my old friend?" Saruman asked. I felt awkward looking up at a wizard. A defeated wizard in this case, who stood high up. "Can we not have peace, you and I?"

Théoden was the first to answer, softly at first. "We shall have peace."

But then he quickly became more assured. "We shall have peace… when you answer for the burning of the westfold, and the children that lie dead there. We shall have peace, when the lives of the soldiers, whose bodies were hewn even as they lay dead against the gates of the Hornburg, are avenged! When you hang from a gibbet for the sport of your own crows… we shall have peace."

"Gibbets and crows? Dotard!" Saruman snapped.

"Who says dotard these days?" Brego mused.

"What do you want Gandalf Greyhame?" Saruman asked. "Let me guess: the key of Orthanc, or perhaps the key of Barad-dûr itself, along with the crowns of the seven kings and the rods of the five wizards!"

Though Gandalf did not answer his question, he replied, "Your treachary has already cost many lives. Thousands more are now at risk, but you could save them Saruman. You were deep in the enemy's council."

I winced. That wasn't the best thing to say. And Saruman must've figured it out as well, because he grinned, realizing that now he has something to bargain with. "So you have come here for information. I have some for you." He said.

Then, from his robes, Saruman pulled out something. It was an orb, a sphere. A glowing one too.

"What is that?" I heard Firefoot ask.

"A palantir." Shadowfax said. He seemed to know many things now. Probably from his nonstop adventures with Gandalf. "They are also known as Seeing Stones, used for the purpose of communication in Middle-Earth and beyond." He explained.

"Something festers in the heart of Middle-Earth. Something that you have failed to see. But the Great Eye has seen it. Even now he presses his advantage. His attack will come soon." Saruman said.

Shadowfax makes an instinctive move forward. I kept watching.

Saruman said, "You're all going to die. But you know this, don't you, Gandalf."

"I didn't either," I muttered to myself.

Aragorn was then caught by Saruman's gaze. "You cannot think that this Ranger will ever sit upon the throne of Gondor." He spat. "This exile, crept from the shadows, will never be crowned king."

Brego glared at him with cold daggers. "Now you wait just a second, you maggot - " He retorted, but Shadowfax silenced him with a sharp look.

Luckily nobody could understand the horse language. "Gandalf does not hesistate to sacrifice those closest to him, those he professes to love." Saruman said, taunting us all. "Tell me… what words of confort did you give the halfling before you sent him to his doom?"

Gandalf sighed, but did not answer.

"The path that you have set him on can only lead to death."

Gimli was impatient, though. "I've heard enough." He grunted. Then, he said to Legolas, "Shoot him. Stick an arrow in his gob."

I nodded a little. "Yes, I would like that." I said.

I felt Legolas reach up to his quiver for an arrow, but Gandalf said "No." Assuming that it was meant for him, Legolas didn't shoot.

Turning to his used-to-be friend, he said, "Come down Saruman, and your live will be spared."

Saruman snorted, obviously turning away his offer. "Save your pity and your mercy; I have no use for it!"

Then, using his staff, he shot a fireball, hurling it straight towards Shadowfax and Gandalf. It was pure flames, the color of red and gold mixed. "Shadowfax!" I heard myself, Firefoot, Snowmane and Brego yelled all at the same time. My eyes widened in fear and terror as hot flames engulfed the horse and rider together, though the great white horse didn't make a single twitch to move. Nor did Gandalf.

All four horses backed away from the heat, and the riders alike winced from the heat.

Then, miraculously, the flames died out, revealing an unscathed Gandalf and a greatly unconcerned Shadowfax. I let out a sigh of relief as I found the horse lord fine.

"Saruman." Gandalf said casually. "Your staff is broken."

And to prove his point, the staff did break. Saruman jerked his hand back as the staff shattered to a hundred pieces, and from behind him, a hunched, familiar pale person appeared.

All four horses, but not Shadowfax included, let out a similar growl and snarl. Gríma Wormtongue decided to show up for the show.

With some recognition, Théoden called up to him, his voice surprisingly more gentle than he was before. "Gríma, you need not follow him. You were not always as you are now. You were once a man of Rohan! Come down."

_No, let him fall down to his death._ I revised his sentence in my mind.

Both men on the tower were speechless for a second, before Gríma bowed down to Théoden. Saruman obviusly did not think so, though.

"A man of Rohan? What is the house of Rohan but a thatched barn where brigands drink in the reek and rats roll on the floor with the dogs? Victory at helms deep does not belong to you, Théoden, horsemaster! You are a lesser son of greater sires."

Snowmane was not delighted in Saruman's answer for his master. "You watch your fat mouth!" He snarled up at the wizard. "You -"

"Be quiet!" Shadowfax scolded him.

But still Théoden persisted. "Gríma, come down. Be free of him."

"Free?" Saruman looked perplexed. "He will never be free."

"No." The pale man said, a look of anger striking his face.

"Get down, cur!" The wizard spat at him cruelly. I smirked.

When the pale man did nothing, Saruman slapped Gríma on his cheek, sending him sprawling on the top of the tower floor.

"Saruman, you were deep in the enemy's council. Tell us what you know." Gandalf said. I think he's oblivious to the fight above.

Gríma draws a dagger from his robes, fury in his expression, clearing etched. "You withdraw your guard," Saruman snarled, "And I will tell you where you doom will be decided."

Gríma lunged towards Saruman, his dagger ready to stab. "This might be interesting." Firefoot said brightly.

"I will not be held prisoner here." Saruman said.

But then, the two were blocked from my sight of the towers, and I heard there was quite a struggle before Gríma stabbed Saruman in the back, twice, due to the fact I heard two gasps of pain.

"Yes!" Brego, Firefoot and I cheered.

Finally, Legolas' hand darted to the quiver, and with his bow and keen eyes, he shot down Gríma, who fell down, dead.

"YES!" Brego, Firefoot and I cheered louder.

And Saruman, feeling his life leave his body, fell off the tower, all the way down, and hit the spoke of a large wheel, impaling it.

Neither Brego, Firefoot or I could let out a loud "_**YES**_!" as we gazed in disgust as body lay on a particular large spike. "Ew." was the only words we could utter.

"Send word to all our allies, and to every corner of Middle-Earth that still stands free." Gandalf proclaimed, "The enemy moves against us. We need to know where he will strike." The wheel began turning due to the sudden force that impacted it, turning Saruman's dead body under the water. Then there was a _plop!_ sound as the Palantír dropped into the shallows of the water.

Treebeard, who was watching everything, decided to come back into the scene. "The filth of Saruman is washing away." He remarked gently. "Trees will come back to live here. Young trees, wild trees." His voice was cheerful and happy.

Though I was little unaware of it, Pippin spotted the glowing orb in the water. Curious, he dismounted from Aragorn's horse for a closer look. Aragorn noticed, and yelled, "Pippin!"

I looked around, and saw the young Hobbit pick up the Palantír. Treebeard, seeing that the attention was now on Pippin rather than him. "Bless my bark!" He said instead, looking surprised to see that round orb.

Quickly, with some sort of nervousness in his voice, Gandalf said, "Peregrin Took, I'll take that, my lad. Quickly now!"

Reluctantly, the hobbit handed it to the old wizard, who quickly stole it away beneath his robes. Staring curiously at it, I hastily looked away when Shadowfax turned to stare at me back with that penetrating gaze of his. With a sigh, I looked up at the tower, and smiled at the thought that Fangorn Forest was going to live. More trees were going to grow. And maybe Middle-Earth did have a chance to live after all.

* * *

><p>The men celebrated tonight. And we decided we would too. At least try, though. Just for the sake of it, but as they were celebrating, we didn't feel at all like celebrating. We were too tired to. But we did take the joy of listening to more stories and relaxing easily.<p>

Yet I wasn't interested at the moment.

I took the privilege of musing to myself and staring out the stable windows in my stall. There wasn't much to look at, though it was peaceful and quieter than inside the barn. Nobody was outside at the moment, except for some roaming guards. The sky was streaked with pinks and blues as the night sky loomed overhead, covering the earth as a dark, soft, velvety blanket.

Flicking my ear to swat a fly, I could hear the noises of celebration coming from inside Helm's Deep. There were laughter and much talking, and singing as well. I rested my head lightly on the window sill, looking at the night sky.

And then there was a quiet voice in my head.

_"That one looks like a horse with wings."_

Looking upwards instinctively, I didn't see a horse with wings. What was that sort of creature anyways? I sighed, glaring at the sky. What was I doing, looking at the stars and thinking of random shapes for them? It was pointless. There _was_ nothing in the stars. Hasufel was just...I don't know.

Shaking my head, I swallowed back a mutter and brought my head back to reality.

"Hey Arod?"

I looked around to see Firefoot looking at me with a friendly gaze. "What?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing." He seemed like he wanted to say something. But I shook that thought off and returned to staring outside and enjoying the fresh air.

"Are you gonna eat that or what?"

I had to stare at his gaze to see what he was looking at. A lone bucket of oats stood in the corner of my stall, untouched.

"Can I have your oats?"

Slowly, I turned and stared at him with a perplexed look, eyebrows raised.

"What?" I asked mildly, cocking my head to the side and taunting him a slight bit.

"Er, can I have your oats?" He repeated, looking rather sheepish.

I pushed the bucket towards his stall slowly with my hind leg, watching his expression, and sniggering, while Firefoot stared at it hungrily.

"Knock yourself out."

* * *

><p>There you go, sixth chapter posted. I'll be back with a seventh chapter sooner or later. After I think some things through. But anyways, story's almost over, don't ya think so? You pretty much know where the story line's going to travel to, and soon Brego's going to sing:<p>

"Weeee're off to Mordor...the land of living crap of Middle-Earth...!"

Hmm. One must not simply follow the yellow brick road to Mordor.

Ah well.

DON'T FORGET TO REVIEW! That little blue-purple link right there, yep, click that. Don't worry, it doesn't bite. ;D

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	8. Chapter 8

In this chapter, Arod and Brego are going to the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Why? Because I feel like it's dreadfully boring to be stuck in Dunharrow while your masters can't be there to drag you into war. So different masters for this chapter.

Enjoy and review! :D

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 8:

The journey was yet the most terrifying thing I've ever been to, besides the time when I first stepped into war.

It was really a barren mountain path. It wasn't so narrow now, which was good, because I was beginning to feel claustrophobic. The sun had luckily come up, making me feel warm, although there was a sense of icy coldness that I didn't favor at all.

"What kind of army would linger in such a place?" Gimli said quietly, looking around from behind Legolas' back.

The Elf's answer was easy and casual. "One that is cursed."

I saw Brego give a shudder. Ah, poor guy. I couldn't blame him.

Legolas began his little lecture on the cursed army. "Long ago the Men of the Mountain swore an oath to the last king of Gondor, to come to his aid, to fight. But when the time came, when Gondor's need was dire, they fled, vanishing into the darkness of the mountain. And so Isildur cursed them, never to rest, until they had fulfilled their pledge."

"Sounds like wimps." I remarked to Brego, giving a sad attempt to cheer him up. He tried to chuckle, although it was rather hard to because there was always that heavy weight of dread and fear weighing and dragging us down.

I felt like I was trapped, though. The sides of the mountain were tall and jagged, forbidding entrance and forbidding escape. It's no wonder why people believe this place is cursed and horrible. Eyes seemed to trail us, watching our every move. It just sent chills down my spine and I didn't like it at all. There was only one way out of here. And it was behind me. But no way was I turning back just yet...

Legolas continued. "Who shall call them from the grey twilight? The forgotten people. The heir of him to whom the oath they swore. From the north shall he come. Need shall drive him. He shall pass the door to the Paths of the Dead."

"I really don't want to go in there," Brego whimpered.

"Nobody does." I mused quietly.

It was a intense silence between us all when he finished his story. The path was almost finished, I could just barely see the Dimholt door, hidden in the mist and fog of mysteries.

It was adorned with skulls, making me feel even more queasy. The three travelers dismounted slowly, looking around warily. Brego had a lovely shade of green on his cheeks. "The very warmth of my blood seems stole away." Gimli whispered, and I silently agreed.

Legolas looked up at the signs on the door. It was a strange sort of writing, almost like hieroglyphics. "The way is shut. It was made by those who were dead, and the dead keep it. The way is shut." He read.

I gulped.

Then what happened could haunt me for the rest of my life. It was completely unexpected. I could never see it coming, never. It was as if it were a bright, sunny and cloudless day on a warm afternoon of the summer when...it starts raining cats and dogs on your head. Completely unexpected. You didn't even get to see storm clouds cover the sky. Just after the Elf spoken those words, wind and a howling noise came out of the door. It raised every hair on the back of my neck and I felt as if I would never be happy again until I left this place...

Okay, fine, I'll admit it. I'll say it. I chickened out and ran.

Look, I'm sorry I was being so wimpy, seeing that I have been in lots of battles already, but hey - it was the most terrifying experience I ever been through. I bet you would scream and run for your life if you been here anyways. Geez. I didn't want to leave..but it was so scary.

"Brego!" Aragorn called to his steed.

"Don't make me come back!" The chestnut horse neighed back, fear evident in his voice.

We galloped all the way back, and yes, you could say we _ditched _our fellow friends back there. Sorry about that, but we are horses. We get spooked easily.

We arrived back to Dunharrow, in the warm, broad sunlight with empty saddles. We reared, still feeling spooked, as if preventing anyone from going in.

Men looked up at us, looking fairly surprised yet some fairly casual, as if they knew the other three wouldn't come back. Some other horses just stared at us like we were idiots.

"Do not go in there." I warned them. "You do not want to go in there."

The men took us and washed us down of our sweat, and then gave us to two soldiers who were in need of a mount. What? We were going to be used for battle just after we encountered whatever creepy things were in that place? What is this...

My mount's name was Lief, and Brego's was Rowan. They were...good.

Eh, more like _normal_.

I happened to learn that Lief and Rowan were what you could say - _newbies_. Completely new to war, they've never come to hand-to-hand combat with Uruk-hai and Orcs. Or trolls. Or goblins. Or anything at all. They've just come out of training. Which, frankly, for me, is fairly annoying. I cannot cope with jittery, nervous, scared soldiers on my back that will probably give me a wrong jerk of the reins at the wrong time, or a wrong squeeze of the legs at the wrong time.

Because timing is important in war.

The Rohirrim prepared to leave, which made me feel slightly better. Anything to get me away from the creepy path in the mountain. Even Brego's cheeks weren't as green as it were before. It was at least better, because I was more used to war than traveling on frightening roads that lead to...even more frightening roads.

Firefoot was pleased to see that I had come in one piece out of the Dimholt road. I was, too. Nobody wants a horse in four pieces, do they now?

"Another round of a contest for Orcs and Uruk-hai, old friend?" Firefoot asked me, smirking. "You know I'll win." His taunting irritated me, but I quickly squished that down and put on a mask of smugness. "You're going down, buddy." Then we separated.

But since we were placed with Lief and Rowan, we became just a spot in the army. A speck out of millions. A stone among a mountain. Caruryn was more of a higher level man, so we got better spots in the front, but we were put partially in the middle.

Not that there was anything bad with it or complaining about the arrangements, but it was just that Firefoot was going to beat me again in our Orc contest. I really didn't want that to happen.

"Hey, Arod, look!"

Brego nudged my ribs, and I followed his gaze to a specific soldier. "What?" I asked, not getting it. "Look at what? He's not interesting to look at."

The chestnut horse snorted and rolled his eyes. "_No, _it's not a _he_, it's a..." he trailed off for me to connect the rest of the dots.

"A she?" I wrinkled my nose.

"Yes!"

"Wait, but..." I squinted my eyes at that soldiers' direction, who was looking quite nervous but trying hard to quench it down and look brave. A she? Girls don't fight in wars...unless Éomer's lost all sanity in his mind and started to employ women to be soldiers. Yet, I don't think he did, as I cast a glance at him. So who could it be? There was something in that face that reminded me very much of someone...but I couldn't quite put my hoof on it...who was that?

"Great Mearas, is that Éowyn?" I exclaimed.

"I think so." Brego's eyes glinted. "She _does _have nerve!"

Though we didn't know it, a small hobbit stood downcast besides a small white pony. already armed and had a sword at his belt. Merry looked very downcast and also very out of place and watched as riders streamed past him on horses, ignoring him.

Out of nowhere, one of the riders snatched Merry up onto his - or in this case, _her_ - horse. "Ride with me." she said quietly. Merry's grin grew big and wide. "My lady!" He gasped.

Éomer was loud as he shouted out orders. "Form up! Move out!"

His uncle was nonetheless loud as well. "Ride! Ride now for Gondor!"

Is it just me, or does everybody have loudness running in that royal family? I mused to myself in my mind. As we rode out, it seemed to be a stream of riders coming out of the encampment at birds' eye view.

* * *

><p>We traveled swift and light. We had to have energetic soldiers before the war, so we couldn't tire them out on the journey to there.<p>

The land was barren and dry. There were dried grass and weeds, which, to my annoyance, couldn't make the best meal for lunch. Though we stopped by a lake, and both Brego and I resisted our masters' hard jerks of the reins to get us back on track to drink water. But it was okay, anyways, because the Rohirrim had stopped by the lake.

While we were drinking I could hear Éomer's voice drifting through the air.

"The scouts report Minas Tirith is surrounded." He reported to Théoden, "The lower level's in flames. Everywhere legions of the enemy advance." He sounded weary.

"That's not good." Brego said quietly mostly to himself. He was listening as well.

Théoden dismounted Snowmane. "Time is against us." He said with a sigh. Their conversation ended.

"What's going to happen to Middle-Earth?" I said aloud. "What if we don't win this war, Brego?"

The chestnut horse's gaze flickered towards me. "We will, Arod. Even if we don't win it, we'll still make a last stand, won't we?" Then his eyes lit up. "Oh, I found Éowyn! Over there!" He exclaimed excitedly.

"With..._Merry_?" We both said together.

The small figure with curly hair was speaking to her. Éowyn had taken off her helmet, though careful not to release her long strands of blonde hair from inside her cloak and armor. She did look somewhat like a soldier, if you don't stare at her.

"Take heart Merry. It will soon be over." She told Merry.

Though Merry seemed like he wanted to go to war, he was rather reluctant to let her go. "My lady, you are fair and brave and have much to live for, and many who love you. I know it is too late to turn aside." He said.

Éowyn didn't look at him, but when she did, she didn't have anything to say.

"I know there is not much point now in hoping. If I were a knight of Rohan capable of great deeds… but I'm not. I'm a Hobbit. And I know I can't save Middle-Earth." Merry pointed out.

I flicked my ear to swat a fly. Of course you can save Middle-Earth, Merry. You can at least help.

"I just want to help my friends. Frodo. Sam. Pippin. More than anything…" He trailed off, looking wistful. "I wish I could see them again."

Éowyn still did not speak.

They held their gazes at each other for a moment before the horn was blown. Breaktime was over, now it was time to keep going. Éomer shouted, "Prepare to move out!"

Théoden ordered, "Make haste! We ride through the night."

"Through the night?" Brego whined. "But I don't want to..."

I reached up to his ear and nipped it with my teeth. "Ouch! What was that for?" He yelped.

"For complaining, of course." I said smugly.

* * *

><p>Théoden was quite right, I had to admit. If we rode on through the night, then we could reach the extremely battered Minas Tirith.<p>

I had never been there before, and it was..interesting. A mighty fine greeting for the first-time newcomers, which is me. I got to see Minas Tirith in absolute chaos. Éomer was right. Minas Tirith was indeed, surrounded by thousands of Orcs, Uruk-hai, trolls, and whatever. There were even the Nazgul and Witch-Kings swooping around, plucking soldiers right off the building like feathers and smashing them onto the ground hundreds of feet below.

"Great Mearas help me," I breathed, with wide eyes.

Brego agreed.

The Rohirrim blew their horns, causing some of the Orcs to turn around to see who it was. Ha, _us._

We trampled across the fields, hoping we seemed to look intimidating enough. I doubt it. Then we stopped to face the Orcs.

Raising my head, I could feel a rush of adrenaline begin to power my veins. Although I knew this wasn't going to be the last fight for Middle-Earth, it felt as if it would be one of the last. I could feel my instincts telling me. Something was going to happen in this war, that might affect the future very much. The Battle of the Pelennor Fields was going to be an important battle everyone would remember.

_Every Orc counts, Arod_, I told myself cheerfully. _Don't miss a single one._

Théoden rode along the front lines of the Rohirrim, not seeming scared at all. "Éomer! Take your eored down the left side." He told his nephew, and then turned to Gamling and Grimbold, who awaited orders.

"Gamling, follow the King's banner down the center." He said. "Grimbold, take your company right, after you pass the wall. Forth, and fear no darkness!" They obeyed his order.

Then the King of Rohan addressed the waiting army. "Arise! Arise! Riders of Théoden!" He shouted loudly. "Spears shall be shaken, shields shall be splintered! A sword-day! A red day, _ere the sun rises_!"

"You don't mind if I join your little game with Firefoot?" Brego asked. His voice no longer shook of terror for the battle. It was replaced by an energetic bravery and courage.

"No, I don't. Feel free to kick Orc butt." I told him.

I could see the Orcs prepare for the ride of the Rohirrim. I was determined to give them each a swift kick in the face. Rattling his swords with the long row of spears, Théoden rode up and down the front line of soldiers. "Ride now, ride now, ride! Ride for ruin and the world's ending!" He shouted. He stopped rattling his sword and faced the Orcs.

"Death!" He roared, pumping his sword into the air.

The Rohirrim shouted back, "Death!"

It kept going for several times. I couldn't resist, neither could Brego, to neigh back "Death!" as well.

"Forð Eorlingas!" Théoden cried. The Rohirrim sounded their horns, signaling the charge. Then it started.

We moved out, leading us into a mad dash towards the Orc battalions. The army of ours became more scattered as we picked up speed. Once again, we charged deliberately, blood pounding in my ears and my eyes focused on nothing but a single target.

The Orcs were ready, though. Raising their arrows, they shot a volley of arrows high into the air only to fall onto us like sharp raindrops. All around me, horses and riders both fell, in mid-run. They crashed to the ground with neighs and cries. "Brego!" I yelled. "Brego!"

"Relax, I'm right behind you."

I looked around with a sigh of relief. He was still okay.

"Death!" Théoden shouted again.

More Orc archers fired, this time at their own will, but what were they thinking, simple arrows to take the Rohirrim out? Was it just me, or were they really that dense to think that? We were no small, weak army. We were the Rohirrim, and it takes more than arrows to wipe us out.

We crashed right through them.

A sea of Orcs was all around me. I kicked and reared, striking anything with a deformed face or stunk. Oh, you should've seen their faces! It was of utter stunned surprise and fear. I loved it. It was hilarious.

_Eight, nine, ten..._I counted.

If I wasn't mistaken, I could bet you that Gimli and Legolas did these games in their battles.

There was another shout - er, shout_s_ - as Éomer's part of the army plunged into the Orcs as well. It was a lovely sight to see.

And for a while, we seemed to be winning cheerfully. I was already at twenty-nine.

_Thirty...thirty-one...oh, thank you Lief, I'll take that as thirty-two..._

Éomer hollered another order. "Drive them back to the river!" His uncle agreed. "Make safe this city!"

_Right-o. _Lief wheeled me around to kick more Orc butt, but in the direction of the river, away from Minas Tirith and the new ruins. Spotting Brego in the distance, I made my way to his side and fought with him. Sweat was pouring down on my shoulders and my panting was ragged and heavy, but who cares? We were winning. We were definitely winning. No one could beat Men...

Not far away, were huge, gigantic figures. They had big ears and four tusks coming out of their faces, and one long trunk. They were painted colors on their leathery skin, and house-shaped structures were strapped to their backs with people inside of them, having arrows ready.

"Oliphaunts..." I heard Rowan whisper in terror.

"Mûmakil..." Lief said.

The Rohirrim had smiles on their faces as victory seemed to be within a hand's reach. Now it seemed to be leagues away.

I let out the longest string of all the curses and swears I knew in my entire life.

"Arod!" Brego gasped. I snorted.

The Haradrim, on the Oliphaunts, blew their horns. I felt like snapping them and shoving them down their throats. But the problem wasn't that there were about twenty healthy, huge, and destructive Oliphaunts in a line, ready to kill us all, although that was a serious issue at the moment, but Sauron had found a way to find allies.

Who knows what else he has planned?

The Oliphaunts charged at us, pushing past the retreating Orcs. Though Théoden should've been peeing in his pants, he wasn't. He made no sign of retreating or hesitating. "Reform the line! Reform the line!" He shouted. "Sound the charge!"

Gamling blew the horn, and it rang throughout the fields. Immediately Lief wheeled me around and positioned me in the front line, to my pleasure. I looked up and down the line excitedly, and spotted Firefoot. He caught me looking for him and grinned. I smiled back.

Then Théoden gave out the order. "Rohirrim! Charge!"

We ran headlong at the Oliphaunts, not afraid to plunge right into them to our deaths. Although we were considered a grain of sand to those huge elephants, we were faster than them. Small little wasps against a confused bear. We darted in and out of mess, stabbing it with spears and arrows and swords, hopefully bringing them down. Instead, the Oliphaunts swung their great big heads around, their tusks dangerously sweeping aside men and horses into the air and let them crash down onto the ground.

Their gigantic feet crushed friends I knew without even thinking about it. Letting out a neigh of fury and outrage, I absentmindedly resisted Lief's control and ran straight at one of those elephants, rearing up and striking its leathery flesh with sharp hooves.

Yeah, that was pretty stupid.

My nostrils flared out as I took a deep breath to calm myself down and let the rider decide where to go. And that was running away from the Oliphaunts. I tried to go back, but the reins held me steady. Arrows rained down around me, the Haradrim shooting at the Rohirrim. With a final struggle against the reins, I banked left and followed the crowds of Rohirrim as they tried to avoid the giant feet.

"Brego!" I shouted over the loud clamor. "Firefoot!"

As I tried to find my friends, I was knocked aside as a horse and man flew straight into me by my side.

For a few moments, I was airborne into the air with a whinny of alarm, the world around me spinning around with a clash of Oliphaunts and Rohirrim fighting. I landed in a heap on the ground on a few other people in a daze. Letting out a groan of annoyance and weariness, I was lucky to feel no pain."Arod!"

Out of the confusion, Lief was still alive. "Arod!" He said, stroking my sweaty neck and cheek. "You alright there, boy? C'mon, let's take down those things!" He said desperately. I glanced at his tired expression, though it was filled with bravery and determination. Energy flowed through me and I sprung to my hooves, ready for another ride.

He mounted me and leaned towards me, pointing to a specific Oliphaunt. "See that one right there? Let's take down that one. We go under its belly," my eyes trailed his finger, "And then I have to let go of the reins, alright? You guide yourself through the legs while I try to attack it from under. Good? Don't get us crushed."

Then he kicked, and I bolted forward, knowing what to do.

I glared at the Oliphaunt both Lief and I targeted, ready to take it down. If it wanted to crush and swing my friends around, fine. We would cut and skin its flesh of its legs until it went down.

"Go boy!" Lief stroke my neck comfortingly, though I really doubt that it would fit the mood of me right now. "I have to let go now!" he shouted, and did as he said he was going to do.

The reins were slacked immediately and I was given freedom to run under the belly of the beast. The Oliphaunt saw me, alright, but thankfully acted like we were just regular wimpy soldiers. Huh. Wimpy, eh? I'll show you wimpy.

Racing under the Oliphaunt, I never slowed down or made an attempt to chicken out and run for my life. Narrowing my eyes with concentration, I had to pick when I would be able to dodge those hefty big legs of the elephant. I leapt over a few bodies, dead, and plunged between its legs. "Good boy!" Lief shouted. I snorted. What was I now, a dog?

Out of the corner of my eye, Lief shot arrows at its belly, and then quickly swung out his sword to slash at its legs. There was a loud moan of pain above me, its pain rumbling the ground beneath me.

Quickly running out, I slowed to a stop and watched as the Oliphaunt fell to the ground, weakened.

"Nice work, Arod, but watch this!"

I whirled around to see Firefoot grinning at me smugly, Éomer on his back, still strong and brave. The nephew of the King of Rohan twirled his spear, concentrating on a single Oliphaunt with narrowed eyes. He readied himself with a grunt, and then kicked Firefoot gently to make him go forward. He did, and then Éomer hurled that spear at the Oliphaunt's rider, a Haradrim captain from an impressive distance.

The Haradrim captain leading the Oliphaunt tried to dodge it, but was too slow. The spear hit its true target with a thud in the center of his chest, and the man fell from his seat on the head, hanging onto the ear painfully. I winced as the Oliphaunt let out a groan and and staggered to its left, knocking over one of its fellow friends onto the ground and fell on it, tangled in each other.

"Ha!" He laughed and teased me playfully. "Now that is how it's done!"

My mouth was already opened, prepared to give him a sharp retort and end this argument with words, but I couldn't find a good insult. Firefoot laughed at my discomfort again, and then raced off as Éomer kicked him in a new direction.

I watched him gallop away. "Insolent, spoiled, impossible pea-brain." I snorted.

* * *

><p>*Sigh* Firefoot can never be satisfied with what Arod can do, can he? Oh well. ;D<p>

Don't forget to review!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	9. Chapter 9

Enjoy and review! ;D

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 9:

I spun around to see another Oliphaunt, riddled with spears. It constantly let out groans as more of the Rohirrim attacked it. And Théoden was hysterical about it. Maybe a little too much. "Bring it down!" He shouted. "Bring it down! Bring it down!"

I shot Snowmane, Théoden's horse, a look of amusement. The white horse snorted, looking irritated with his master and his hysterical shouting. For a moment it reminded me of how I felt when Gimli was on my back and kept holding on tight until I tried to buck him off so I could breath again. _Don't worry, Snowmane_. I thought to myself. _You'll get used to it._

Panting, I watched a soldier throw a spear at the Oliphaunt and it landed in its leg, quivering. The beast reared up in pain, and fell to the ground with a heavy thud that shook the very earth beneath my legs, unbalancing me. Lief gripped the reins tightly, trying to hang on. Before I staggered and fell, I saw a soldier get knocked off his feet - no, wait, _two _soldiers?

I crashed onto the ground hard as Haradrim soldiers from the Oliphaunt that was brought down fell on me, burying me effectively. They were heavy! I let out a whinny for help. Swearing under my breath, I struggled under the heavy weight of at least six men, lifeless from the impact of falling so far distances. "Lief!" I neighed loudly. My master was nowhere in sight. Trying to move, I hope I didn't crush him as well. "Brego! Firefoot!" I shouted.

"Anybody! Just - get these people off of me!" I grunted with a heave as I attempted to shove them off my body. "Great Mearas, why do men have to be so heavy?" I said.

I growled and stopped struggling under the weight. Glaring at the cloudy sky filled with smoke, I snorted before summoning the rest of my energy to kick the men off of me so I could walk free.

One of them shifted off my leg, falling onto the ground, off of me. I could finally kick the rest of the others off with a free hoof. But my foot struck something sharp, and I winced in pain as a blade cut my ankle.

I rolled over, shaking my mane of the blood splatters on the ground. Slowly and gingerly, I observed my hoof that was cut. At least it didn't look that bad, but it was bleeding badly. Did I cut it that hard?

Trying not to hurt my ankle more than it already felt, I staggered to my feet in a daze, calling for Lief, Brego, and Firefoot. Or even Snowmane. Somebody who could help me.

But I had only walked a few feet when there was a tugging on my reins. I jerked my head, thinking that probably Lief was still hanging on to it, but dead. Possibly.

When the reins didn't slack, I jerked again, feeling irritated. But it didn't loosen either way, no matter how hard I jerked. "Look, I have no time for your jokes, Lief!" I snapped, not caring that no man could really understand what a horse said. "We're in the middle of a war! I can get killed if you don't let go of me!" Whirling around, feeling my temper flare up dangerously, I stalked back to the pile I had just managed to worm my way out of.

Taking the reins in my teeth, I tugged hard. And up rooted a Haradrim man.

Barely alive, he tried to swing at me with his sword. Huh. Not happening. I rolled my eyes and struck a hoof out at him, hitting him square and full in the face. "Beat that." I said to a now dead enemy of mine. Then I tugged.

Still stuck.

Grumbling, I shoved his arm out of the way to see what got my reins caught with my nose. Various soldiers had armor on, Orcs, Rohirrim, or Haradrim. Protective as they were, I knew that things could get stuck in them easily. The plates of armor had many different pieces to it, overlapping the body to protect. And ropes, or reins, in this case, could easily be stuck between them. Sniffing around, I tried to ignore the death cries and painful moans around me and get myself free.

Except I couldn't. Because, for the love of Mearas, my reins were tangled into a mess, wrapped around and stuck in the armor and whatever things the Haradrim wore these days around. The more I tugged, the more the reins got stuck.

So I was left with one choice:

Stop tugging and suck it up.

Glaring at an Orc that laughed at me from behind me, I bucked and kicked him in the face hard, sending him flying back for a few feet. Looking behind me, I smirked to see the Orc on the ground, unconscious. That wasn't half bad.

But then what I saw next was more than half bad.

It was...all bad.

I don't think I've ever seen a creature as terrifying as this. It swooped down from the sky, soaring low to the ground. A rider cloaked in black with a strange looking helmet and sword flew straight towards me.

Rohirrim quickly rode out of the way, avoiding it. Nobody dared to stand in its path.

Eh, I wouldn't either. Except that I was stuck.

Why does everything bad happen to me?

Now desperate, I tugged hard. Very hard. My heart was beating rapidly against the cage of ribs in my chest, nearly jumping out of my throat. Never had I felt this terror before. The only time had I felt it was when I was on the Dimholt road. But this was different. It was like death was nearing you. If it decided to snatch you up in its powerful jaws and swing you around like an old rag doll before smashing you down on the ground heavily, then it would do so. And you wouldn' t be alive to get back up before it ate you.

"Arod!"

I swung my head as I saw Snowmane, with Théoden on his back. They had just turned around to see the flying beast coming straight for me and them. Théoden had a look of fear first, but it was replaced by a look of being absolutely weary; never had I seen him like that before. It was almost like, "Aw, no, are you kidding me, not a flying beast as well? I'm so tired..."

Normally I would've been screaming my head off, but not King Théoden. He was braver than any man I knew. Before I could stop myself completely, I ducked in terror as the beast flew over me, giving out a loud sigh of relief as it missed me completely.

But instead it went for Théoden.

"NO!" I shouted after realization struck me. "You stupid flying animal! Not the King of Rohan! No, take me instead!"

I felt like killing myself. Could I had really been that selfish that I hid from the beast to let it take Théoden? No, the _King of Rohan_? Stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid, stupid! What in the name of Mearas was I thinking? No!

Horrified at myself and what was happening, I could only watch as Snowmane screamed in terror as the beast snatched him up in his jaws and did shake them like a rag doll, as I suspected as it would do. Then it smashed them on the ground, throwing Théoden a distance away. Another soldier looked on in horror as well.

"Snowmane," I whispered to a slain white heap lying on the ground, crushing and pinning a wounded Théoden to the ground. "I'm so sorry..."

The rider spoke to his beast. "Feast off his flesh."

I began a rant of a series of screaming neighs and shouting whinnies at the man on the beast, though I doubt he cared. The beast took a few steps towards the king.

And a soldier, who had been watching, rushed in between the beast and Théoden.

"I will kill you if you touch him." The Rohirrim soldier said fiercely.

My jaw dropped, probably several feet, if possible. "Great Mearas..." I whispered, recognizing the voice easily. "Éowyn..."

The rider answered, "Do not come between the Nazgûl and his prey." His voice was almost raspy yet cold. It held no mercy at all. I shivered at the evil radiating off of him.

The beast advanced towards Éowyn dangerously, a growl deep in its throat. Then it lunged forward quickly, snapping at her. She dodged, barely missing its teeth. She almost slipped and fell as she ended up on the side of the beast's neck, and her eyes saw an opportunity. Anybody would've been a fool to miss it, shining with gold. Éowyn raised her sword and decapitated it.

The head was sliced clean off. The beast staggered, weakened and only a few seconds to death as the rider dismounted. I stood not far away, frozen and paralyzed. All I could focus on was the fight happening in front of me.

The rider could've glared real daggers at Éowyn if you could see his eyes. Inside the helmet seemed to be a dark chasm of nothing. Which thoroughly creeped me out. Behind him, the beast fell to the ground with a final twitch, and then was still, cold.

Looming over her, he stood at his full height, his weapons at his side. He had a sword, sharp still, in his right hand and in his left, a deadly mace, swinging a little. Éowyn's eyes grew large at the sight of it. I felt bad for her.

The rider attacked first, swinging around his mace. Ducking, the mace swung around, but back. She ducked again, and the mace attacked several times. I was holding my breath the entire time, praying to whoever would listen that Éowyn would not be hurt.

Alas, why does everything bad happen to me?

The mace finally hit its mark, on Éowyn's wooden shield, shattering it into many pieces. She cried out in pain, clutching her left arm and fell on Snowmane, leaning against his belly for support. I winced, and guessed it was broken. I wanted to sock that rider right then and there.

He opened his arms, taunting her, and although he didn't know it, me as well.

When Éowyn did not move to reply to his taunt, he grew impatient.

Taking her by the throat, he lifted her up. She looked absolutely frightened by him. "You fool!" He snarled. "No man can slay the Lord of the Nazgûl! Die now!"

I laughed out loud at the ironical thing he said, as well as his idiocy. "This is no man!" I guffawed, despite the situation that Éowyn could die in his grasp. "A sad excuse for a Lord of the Nazgûl!"

And to make it all the better, a small figure with a head of curly hair, obviously the Hobbit Merry, crawled up from behind, and with a final summon of energy, he stabbed the rider in the back of his knee with his dagger. I cheered, but stopped and gazed in alarm as Merry let out a yell of pain, clutching his arm that he stabbed the rider with. Then he fell down onto the ground.

I tried to comprehend what had just happened, but was cut off of my thinking as Éowyn stood back up, before the now weakened and vulnerable rider. With a deep breath, she pulled her helmet off her head, and revealed her true identity: a shieldmaiden of Rohan.

Her hair shone in the light as she snapped, "I am no man!" at the rider.

Astounded, the rider did nothing.

With a shout, she swung her sword and stabbed it in the mouth of the rider, sticking it in there for a few seconds before yanking it out with a gasp of pain. She let go of her sword as she held her arm. With wide eyes, I watched as the rider's body did something strange. It crumbled into a heap at her feet, losing its bodily shape. The rider now was just a crumbled helmet and only a cloak of nothing. Like there wasn't a body there to begin with.

Éowyn knelt to the ground, pain clearly written on her face. As she tried to crawl towards her uncle, an Orc appeared behind her from the mists of war. With a deformed face and a snarl erupted from him, I recognized him to be Gothmog, as he raised a mace towards her.

"Éowyn!" I screeched and finally noticed my surroundings.

There was something green traveling at a rapid pace, covering the fields and taking down everything in its path. One of them approached me. I reared, biting back pain in my still-bleeding ankle. It was a ghost. A ghost from the Dimholt place, I guess.

Well...

WHY WAS IT HERE?

I neighed in fear. "Brego! Brego! Firefoot!" I yelled for my friends in terror. The ghost gazed at me in confusion before heading off and slicing through a party of Orcs and disappeared.

Was it just me, or...was those ghosts on my side?

"Sorry," I said meekly to nobody.

Then I turned my attention to Éowyn, and was relieved to see Gimli and Aragorn cutting down Gothmog. I neighed to them, but they did not seem to hear me. "Hey, guys!" I whinnied again. They ignored me once again.

Heavy stomping of feet pounded the ground, and the ground shook beneath my feet.

Again.

I dreaded seeing one of those Oliphaunts again. They were just plain annoying. "Legolas!" Aragorn shouted to a silvery-blonde haired Elf; a very familiar and friendly face to see in the Battle of the Pelennor Fields.

"Legolas!" I shouted back. "Hey, where were you? Don't ditch me next time!"

Oh, nobody listens to me.

The Elf faced an Oliphaunt running towards him alone, with determination set in his face. A sudden thought crossed my mind. _Is he really taking on a giant elephant by himself? _Awed by his abilities, I watched him leap onto one of its legs, hanging onto the spikes on its ankles. Then he climbed to the top, using his elven grace at the same time to quickly shoot off his enemies at the same time.

Huffing, I made a vow to myself to ask him how he did that.

Then, slipping quietly to the side of the Oliphaunt and swinging, he cut the saddle rope with one of his white elven daggers and the platform slid off the elephant, and watching it crash to the ground. Then, spinning around, he strung two arrows to his bow and leapt to the head of the Oliphaunt, and shot the arrows through his skull.

The beast let out a groan of pain as death overwhelmed it, and as it staggered and fell to its knees, Legolas prepared to jump off the now slain beast. Gracefully sliding down its trunk, he landed on his feet softly on the ground with a smirk on his face, right in front of Gimli, and not far from me either.

I whooped and cheered with approval. "HA!" I said triumphantly. "That is _my _master, and he's the coolest Elf in Middle-Earth! _HA_! Beat that!" I neighed brightfully to no one in particular.

And it resulted in a very awkward silence.

Gimli stood in front of him, his jaw slacked but he quickly closed it when Legolas stared at him. He fumbled for words. "It still only counts as one!" The Dwarf said. I chuckled, and neighed loudly to them both.

The Elf and Dwarf looked to their left, where I was. "Arod!" The Elf exclaimed, and ran over to me. "Why are you here?"

"Because," I said smugly, although he didn't have a clue what I said, "I'm a war horse."

Legolas saw my reins caught in the mess of soldiers. "You got caught," he said with a smirk, glancing towards me. "Shut up and don't laugh," I scowled at him, telling him off, feeling a little sheepish.

With quick and slender elven fingers he was able to untie and work the tangled reins out of the mess of dead men. And gently, he tried to coax me to walk forward, but if I did, my ankle would be hurt further. And I would limp.

_And war horses do not limp_, I thought stubbornly to myself. _We march. We strut. We...are very show-off...whatever. We still do not limp. It would be greatly offending...to my stubborn pride._

Legolas stroke my neck, and began whispering words in his native language to me. I closed my eyes shut, beginning to fall into the depths of the Elven language. And then I began to move forward.

And then I limped.

Much offending to my stubborn pride. Told ya so.

The Elf looked at me strangely, and then his blue eyes looked towards my wounded leg. "You're hurt." He said. I snorted and shook my mane.

No kidding, what do you think I was doing?

"Come, I will help you to Minas Tirith. It is not a long walk," he said, though it would be quite strange to see an Elf talking to a horse aloud. You don't see that often in the aftermath of a war. "We will get your leg healed."

Together, we walked back to the White City, scanning the fields of dead or wounded. Orcs, men, Uruk-hai, Oliphaunts, trolls, horses - whatever, they were all there. A great mass of variety of different people and races of Middle-Earth had fallen this day. Friends of mine, people I knew, people I hated were wiped out and dead, or else hurt badly. It was just a devastating sight to see so much horrible and terrible things in just one whole day.

Then there was a shout of "No!" somewhere behind me. I looked around and felt a pang of sorrow and horror.

Éomer spotted his wounded sister, lying on the battlefield. He ran towards her, his face twisted with the same thing I was feeling as well: sorrow and pure horror. Kneeling down besides her, he picked her up gently, though with brotherly care. Another figure, which I guessed to be Aragorn, saw the Éomer grieving over his sister, which, by no doubt, he believed to be dead.

I swallowed nervously, knowing it was partially my fault that I didn't distract that black beast from killing Théoden or hurting Éowyn as well. I mean, I was this white-colored object in a brown, yellow, green, and gray battlefield. Nobody else was really as brightly colored as I was. Horses were chestnut or brown or black, orcs were darker and muddy colors, and Rohirrim wore green cloaks and their armor was a rusty silver and brown and gold. Me? I was a pearly white.

I rather doubt that the beast wouldn't see me.

A tugging on my reins brought me back to reality, and I blinked, and let Legolas lead me to the comfort and warmth of the stables in a half-ruined Minas Tirith.

* * *

><p>"Arod!"<p>

There was a relieved and loud greeting as various horses neighed to me when I entered the stables. Stable boys milled around each one of the war horses that fought, tending to their wounds, scrubbing them down of sweat and grime, and filling their stable with fresh hay and oats and water.

I let out a neigh of joy when I saw Brego and Firefoot, still standing, and was even delighted to see Patch and Kiva, who looked remarkably pretty. She grinned at me, and I smiled weakly back - wait. That sounded wrong.

"You fought as well?" I asked her.

"Did you forget? I am a war horse as well."

That ended awkwardly.

"So, Arod, how many did you take down?" Firefoot asked. I winced a little when a stable boy bandaged my ankle tightly. "Er..." I frowned and thought. "About...fifty...eight? I'm guessing. I lost count after forty."

The gray horse was lost for words for a moment, his eyes staring at me. His mouth was open.

Oh, the best expression I've seen in years.

I laughed out loud. The stables were quiet as they looked between Éomer's war horse and a mere Elf's horse. And realized what happened.

"Congratulations!" They all cheered, "How did you do it, Arod?" and "You beat Firefoot's score by four!" Apparently most of the horses here were very pleased to see that Firefoot's record was beat. Especially Brego.

I tried to quench that pride and stop talking like a celebrity. The gray horse of Éomer blinked and stared at me and the delighted horses. "Congrats, friend. Good job. Never thought you would beat me." He said after a few minutes of stunned silence. I smiled at my old friend. "I never thought of it either. So we'll call it even?"

Firefoot looked slightly surprised. "But I beat you many times before," he said bluntly.

"Yes," I replied, "But contests don't prove that we are worthy to be friends."

The gray horse smiled and shrugged and finally obliged to a stable boy to wipe down a bleeding wound.

And for a few days after that, we were all cheerful and warm to each other. My ankle was healing nicely as well. For those short days, we exchanged good words and didn't care about anything at all. It was like back in those carefree days when Middle-Earth was quiet and peaceful when nobody bothered each other with irritating moody words and tempers flaring into a dangerous boiling point.

We were all quite content with our hay and oats.

Kiva, on the other hand, was quiet between me and her. There was an interestingly awkward silence between us, and Firefoot, Brego, and Patch kept snickering behind our backs and nudging me towards her.

"What?" I hissed, exasperated at their smirking and constant sniggering. "What is so funny?"

Brego grinned and pointed with his nose to some horse behind me. I looked, and for a moment saw Kiva's blue eyes flicker towards me, but dropped her gaze, looking somewhat embarrassed and began talking to her friend. I slumped slightly at the sight of her. "What about her?" I asked warily at the three. "What about Kiva?"

Firefoot let out a whinny of laughter. "Don't you see?" He said between laughs.

"See what?"

"_Kiva_, Arod. She's been looking at you for the past days."

"What?"

I looked at her curiously. "Really?"

Patch rolled his eyes. "You are as blind as a mole, Arod. Have you lost your interest in all that is around you, or what?" He snorted.

"No, really, what's going on?" I demanded. "I want an explanation." Then I added, judging the looks of my friends' faces. "A _clear_ one as well."

The three of them exchanged glances at each other, and after a moment of thought, Firefoot was the first to explain. In a low voice, he said, "Arod, I am suspecting that Kiva has some sort of attraction - "

I mentally smacked my forehead and groaned quietly, trying to ignore him, but he kept going. "She might like you. And you..." he taunted me playfully. I glared at him. "I do not like her!" I said arrogantly, irritated by their behavior. "Not ever!"

"Oh really?"

"Yes!"

Brego smirked. "We'll see..." he said smugly, and the three dived into a quiet conversation, no doubt about me and Kiva.

I snorted and turned to my bucket of oats, though well aware that a certain pair of blue eyes was watching me.

* * *

><p>Awww, Arod has a love interest! But I'm still not sure about how I'm going to work that out yet...hmm...oh well. Something will happen; I'm sure of it. Plus this story is ending soon...perhaps two more chapters? One more? You'll see in a week or so.<p>

Don't forget to review!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	10. Chapter 10

In this chapter, they head for the Black Gate. But one part in there that always got me kind of confused in that part of the movie - where did the horses go? I mean, they were there when they rode for the Black Gate of Mordor...except, when they were fighting, they just disappeared. I know that Peter Jackson couldn't exactly afford to have the horses in the way as much like the Battle of Pelennor Fields, but I think I'm going to use my creative license and keep the horses, so parts of this chapter won't be the same as one in the movie.

Alright, but anyways - I FINALLY GOT TO SEE THE LoTR MOVIES! And throughout all three, I was like - Holy shoes and hamburgers, I've got lots of editing and work to do...turns out relying on only your memory and a script that doesn't specify what happens and who does what doesn't exactly help in writing fanfics, does it? Oh well. I guess I'll be mainly re-editing my chapters and making sure it actually goes along with the storylines correctly. So posting chapters may be postponed for later - I've got to fix my errors. But I guess I'll just post this chapter, and then edit, and after that - _Beyond Those Dark Eyes _will be finished! And then I'm off to more creatures of Middle-Earth, such as Brego, fell beasts, maybe Shadowfax...oh, I'll try to toss in a warg to my written stories list as well. Ooh, maybe I'll do Buckbeak and Nagini from Harry Potter too! Heh heh.

Savvy? ;)

Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 10:

By the time my ankle had finally fully healed, the men had already figured out a new plan to attack Mordor and end the war once and for all.

Aragorn led the army away from Minas Tirith, riding on Brego, who looked very pleased and smug to be leading the army with the Heir of Isildur, but if not, the army of war horses that carried soldiers on their backs. Yet I really did wish to wipe that smile off his face. Why? No reason in particular - I'm pretty bored.

Pippin rode with Gandalf on Shadowfax. The horse lord seemed quite calm and determined riding alongside, although he did not speak much during the journey to the Black Gate of Mordor. Merry rode with Éomer, on Firefoot, next to me. I had Gimli and Legolas on my back. The Pelennor Fields at least looked a bit better, compared to the mess we had days ago. There were corpses burning with smoke drifting lazily from it to the sky still on the land, scattered. The smell of death still lingered in the air. I shuddered even to think about the horrible screaming and cries that were sounded all around me before.

As the Host of the West marched forth from Minas Tirith, Firefoot and Brego had a light conversation with me. I had no idea where Patch was, much less Kiva. Somewhere back behind us, no doubt.

"Are you sure you don't like Kiva?" Firefoot pressed on the topic, apparently finding it amusing to taunt and tease me about the confusing storms of love or crush. I really, do not understand anything about relationships, love or not love.

I sighed. "For the last time, _no_ I do not like her! And enough of this topic, it's getting boring."

The gray horse snorted and looked away, his head raised high in mock arrogance. "You just don't want to admit it, don't you, Arod?" He said. I twitched. "There is nothing to admit," I snapped impatiently. "Gain a brain cell - I _DO NOT_ like her." I said, my voice considerably louder at the words, "Do not".

"Sure..." he said, rolling his eyes, acting as if he knew the truth. Then with a swish of his gray colored tail, he trotted forward, catching up with Brego.

I snorted and shook my mane free of flies. Why was he so impossible these days? Especially when the topic turned to Kiva. I swear, if he doesn't stop talking about it...but then a sudden thought struck my mind. If only I could turn the argument around...I knew Firefoot had some interest in some she-horse I've never heard of before, but at night I have heard him muttering her name over and over. Something like Ebony. And hey, didn't Brego like Laypril or something? At Dunharrow, that female elven she-horse. With a new smirk on my face, I bounded forward to my friends. "Hey," I said.

Brego swung his head around looked at me, a glint in his brown eyes. "Going to 'fess up, now? Finally." I rolled my eyes, exasperated.

"Of course not, but - "

Great Mearas, save me.

"**_AHA_**!"

There was a triumphant neigh ringing throughout Middle-Earth. They looked at me with pure glee and delight. Both Aragorn and Éomer, a little startled to hear the loud neigh of "_**AHA**!_" explode from their steeds' mouths, both had to tug sharply on the reins to get them to move again. I swear those poor little Hobbits in the Shire would turn around, startled to hear that neigh that came all the way from the south, Gondor.

I felt my cheeks burn. Did I say something? Let's rewind..."Of course not, but - " was the last thing I said. I furrowed my brow and stared at the ground and the passing scenery. Good grief, I did say something.

So what? I may have said it already - but why must everything bad happen to me?

"So you _do _admit it, don't you?" Firefoot and Brego both chattered animatedly and excitedly.

I bit my lip and glared at them both. "I never said anything!" I tried lying, but it wasn't exactly my specialty. Especially when your cheeks are burning red, lying does not help at all. And it happens that you may do have feelings for a certain female, but you just are too stubborn to admit it.

"Sure you did, Arod." Firefoot said smugly, looking quite delighted that he won the argument. "You said 'Of course not'. Which implies that 'of course not', you're not going to say that you looooove Kiva..." He droned brightly, taunting me.

Not far away, Patch and Kiva trotted together in the line of soldiers that marched out of Minas Tirith. They could distinctly see the white head of Arod, chestnut head of Brego, and gray head of Firefoot talking to each other. Arod looked irritated and embarrassed at the same time, while Firefoot and Brego looked absolutely delighted by something. It was a expression of true mirth and joy that it would frighten the most bloodthirsty warg.

Or maybe even Sauron himself.

Kiva's ears flicked forward as she caught her name, the sound of it bickering happily floating downwind towards her. She narrowed her eyes coldly at them. Those three...always poking their noses into others' businesses when they aren't supposed to anyways...

Her blue eyed gaze glanced towards Patch, who paused a bit to take a mouthful of grass. His master gave a grunt and yanked the reins that his head came back up, though he was munching contently on his grass, his eyes lit up. "This tastes interesting...nothing like hay or oats." He mused to himself.

"Did you hear that?" Kiva asked him, nudging his ribs.

"Hear what?" Patch didn't seem to know anything to her frustration. She sighed, exasperated.

"Hear my name, Patch. The great Trio up ahead were talking about me. I could hear my name floating downwind to me. I am not deaf, as far as I am concerned."

Then horse with faint splotches of brown on his coat snorted and laughed, though choked on his grass. Kiva huffed as his behavior. "The Trio up ahead?" He exclaimed, coughing and wheezing on his grass at the same time. "The horses of the masters that hold great value and honor in this war at the moment? Talking about you? Well, I'll be..."

"You don't believe me." She said dully, flicking her ears to swat the flies.

"Of course." Then Patch said absentmindedly, but then he corrected himself quickly when Kiva gave him a sharp and cold glare in return. "Well, not that I don't believe you, but..it is quite hard to believe...because no offense, you and I do not hold much value in this War of the Ring as much as they do. We could very well be mere war horses on their duty."

Kiva bit her lip and looked away. "You're no help at all," She muttered, trying not to let her gaze travel to Arod, as it had many times before.

* * *

><p>We got to the Black Gate of Mordor in the afternoon.<p>

Ominous, dark, and tall it loomed over us, like a shadow. It covered us and the atmosphere became considerably colder and felt evil. "I really do not like this place," Brego whispered. "It gives me bad memories." He looked at me, and we both knew what he was talking about. The Dimholt road.

"What memories?" Firefoot questioned us, very curious. "Did you two do something together that I missed?"

"Apparently." I muttered.

As Aragorn's troops neared the Black Gate, we didn't dare show a single bit of fear against Sauron. We were very unopposed. At least I hope we were.

We ceased marching as Aragorn decided that we were a good amount close enough to the Black Gate. But trust me, I felt it would be a little too close. In fact, I don't want to be anywhere near Mordor right now. Swallowing nervously, I pushed past the fear and into bravery, ready to face anything that dared to come out of Mordor.

Though we did stand there for quite a while. Awkward silence?

The Black Gate seemed deserted. Orcs didn't roam the towers, watching the outside of Mordor in case of enemies or something coming. There were no shouting, no grunting, no snarling or growling that I could hear coming from the gates. Well, actually, I didn't see anything, much less anyone. Much to my delight. "Excellent," Firefoot seemed to agree with me. "If nobody is coming out, then let's go home, shall we, friends?"

"Oh yeah."

"Of course, why not?"

I could hear Pippin's voice as he sat upon Shadowfax with Gandalf. "Where are they?" he asked, breaking the silence, besides the horses' muttering and soft talking and reassuring of their friends.

Aragorn, looking impatient and annoyed, spurred Brego forward, towards the gate. I could hear my friend moaning the entire way. "Oh no...help me..."

But to make matters worst, Legolas, Éomer, and Gandalf had decided to follow Aragorn as well. "Hey!" I let out a neigh. "Legolas! Elf boy, what are you doing?" But nobody ever learns to speak the language of horses. So protesting doesn't work.

Alas, must I say it again? Why must everything bad happen to me?

So it was a group of five horses moaning all the way. Well, actually, on second thought, let's revise that. Shadowfax, in his kingly and noble self, never did moan, frankly. Because he's a horse _lord - _they don't moan or complain or protest against their masters. He just quietly made his way with us towards the Gate, confident that he will win. So it's actually _four_ horses moaning the entire way there.

Seeming quite brave and unaffected by the strong presence of Mordor, Aragorn addressed the large, looming gates with a loud voice. "Let the Lord of the Black Land come forth! Let justice be done upon him!" I looked at him with wide eyes. How could he be so calm at this time? And so brave? For all I knew, I wanted to bolt and run.

"Oh, Great Mearas, now he's done it," Brego moaned. "Can't he just shut his mouth..."

I shushed him. "Stop whining," I snapped. "We're going to fight, and we're going to win." The chestnut horse looked at me with wide eyes. "How do you know that?" His voice was desperate and so filled with anguish that it made my heart feel like it was going to crack in two.

I hesitated before answering. "I don't know. But we will." I told him. "Don't worry."

After a moment's pause of silence, he replied back, "Don't ask why I ask you this, but if this day is the day you die, who is it that you would die for the most?"

I looked at him, thinking. "Oh..." I mused quietly, "Some old friends of mine..."

Brego gave me a small grin. "Thanks, Arod." He said. I dipped my head in return and thought to myself. _Obviously he doesn't realize it's not just Firefoot and himself..._

Thoughts were cut off as the black gate creaked open before us. I waited for the signal to run, but Aragorn, nor Legolas, had given me the tug of the reins for me to head back. And I wished they did do so earlier. And from the shadows of Mordor, beyond the gates, a single rider rode out on a black horse. I gulped. Loudly.

"I don't blame you..." Firefoot whispered in fear. "Can we run now?"

Shadowfax finally spoke up. I side-glanced him, and saw his face set with a cold determination and concentrated, narrowed eyes. "Hold your ground, friends." He said. His voice sounded so reassuring and brave that I did, in fact, decide to stay put and wait until the war was over to run back. "You will not run unless I tell you to."

"But we will die..." was a whisper escaping my mouth.

"I am Shadowfax, lord of the horses. I am your lord, and you shall do as I say." Nodding, I braced myself for the worst.

The rider was cloaked in black, and full armor and helmet, and so was the horse. The only part that was in human form, and was showing, was a grotesque mouth. The lips were coated in dried blood, and the teeth were yellow and disgusting. I winced at the sight of it. I don't know what he did before he came here.

Shadowfax decided to speak for us to the horse. "Steed of the Mouth of Sauron..." he growled, much unlike his usual, contained self.

The black horse smirked. "Hello, Shadowfax." He dipped his head. "Pleasure to meet the great horse lord." He didn't even acknowledge us. His attention just stood to the pearly white horse. I narrowed my eyes and tensed. If he were only interested in Shadowfax, then there was definitely something going on in his mind.

"Mind him," I hissed to my friends. They gave a slight nod and glared coldly at the black horse.

"My master, Sauron the Great, bids you welcome." The rider said coldly. "Is there any in this rout with the authority to treat with me?"

Aragorn looked at him with great disgust. So did everyone else. Gandalf was the first to gather his courage to speak. "We do not come to treat with Sauron, faithless and accursed." He said. "Tell your master this: The armies of Mordor must disband. He is to depart these lands, never to return."

"Yeah." I said to the black horse. "Tell him that."

He just looked at me oddly.

Then, the rider spoke, with a hint of old recognition in his voice. "Old Greybeard." He said, his head slightly cocking to the side. "I have a token I was bidden to show thee." Then he held up something, a shirt. It glittered in the shadows, although there was no sunlight to shine on it. I stared at it. "What exactly is that?" Firefoot asked.

"Mithril." Shadowfax said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. "Lighter than a feather, yet stronger than any armor. A spear that would've skewered a wild boar could never skewer a man...or a hobbit...wearing this valuable shirt."

Pippin breathed, "Frodo."

I frowned. Have I heard that name before?

The Mouth of Sauron tossed the shirt to Gandalf lazily, who caught it. He held it up slowly, his eyes weary with grief. "Frodo!" Pippin said again, but louder. It contained nothing but sorrow and anguish.

"The Ringbearer." Shadowfax explained, seeing our confused faces. "Frodo is our Ringbearer."

Gandalf snapped, "Silence."

But Merry seemed to have not heard the old wizard. "No!"

"Silence!"

The Mouth of Sauron smirked, an evil grin spreading on those bloodied lips. "The halfling was dear to thee, I see." He said mildly, as if he didn't care if anyone died or not. "Know that he suffered greatly at the hands of his host. Who would've thought one so small could endure so much pain? And he did, Gandalf. He did."

If it weren't for Legolas holding me back with those reins, I would've pounded his guts out.

Nobody spoke, so the rider let out a wicked laugh. Aragorn tensed at that, but relaxed, and he spurred Brego forward, his eyes blazing. Riding casually towards the Mouth of Sauron, he stopped at the rider's side.

The chestnut horse's chocolate eyes flickered towards me, and grinned. I gave him back a smile. Aragorn is bloody brilliant.

"And who is this?" The rider asked, sarcastically interested. "Isildur's heir? It takes more to make a king than a broken Elvish blade."

Aragorn gave him a faint smile of amusement. Then he yanked out his sword, and with a hard and fast motion, he sliced the Mouth of Sauron's head off easily, cleanly without blinking. Like a hot knife through butter.

Did I tell you enough? Aragorn is bloody brilliant! "Ha!" I taunted the black horse, who looked stunned to see his master on the ground, decapitated and dead. "It may not take just a mere broken Elvish blade to make Aragorn a king, but it does to be able to have justice be done on the ones responsible!"

Gimli seemed content with what Aragorn just did. And, if he knew the language of horses, what I just said. "I guess that concludes negotiations." He said cheerfully.

"I do not believe it." Aragorn said firmly. "I will not."

With his sword bloodied and dripping dark red liquid, he returned to his original place, facing the Black Gate of Mordor. But just after he had cut off the wretched rider's head, the Black Gate creaked, swaying open. Beyond it, I didn't want to know, but was forced to see.

A massive army of marching Orcs were heading straight for us. The Tower of Barad-dûr, with a great flaming eye, was fixed upon us. It was no more than a mere almond-shaped eye, but you know what horrors it can do for Middle-Earth.

I flashed a glance at all of my friends. Brego looked terrified. Firefoot looked horrified. Shadowfax? Too confident and ready for my liking.

"Pull back!" Aragorn ordered us all. "Pull back!"

_Right-o, Oh great Isildur's heir. I would be delighted to run screaming. _

And that's what we did. We pulled back, returning to our small, waiting army that awaited its doom and death.

The army seemed both restless and terrified. So was I. "Hold your ground!" Aragorn ordered them all. "Hold your ground."

_Yes please, no need for an army to trample me. Or anybody. _

Legolas moved me to go to a spot in front of the army. Excellent. I'm sure to beat Firefoot again. "Sons of Gondor! Of Rohan! My brothers!" Aragorn shouted, giving his pep speech. "I see _in your eyes_ the same fear that would take the _heart_ of me."

I looked around. Yep, that was pretty much true.

The man that was once a Ranger became a king to my eyes. I no longer saw a rugged, tall man wearing travel-stained and ragged wear, nor a tired, mysterious face. I saw a king, a man who knew how to lead and fight and do what was right. Aragorn, the Ranger from the North, had become a King of Gondor to my eyes. Like what he was supposed and meant to be.

He began pacing back and forth on Brego, who smirked at me and Firefoot. He looked happy to be Aragorn's steed.

I huffed, trying not to pout. Oh well. I have two men of royalty on my back: one, a Prince of Mirkwood, and the other, a Dwarf, from the House of Durin. They were just as good as Aragorn.

"A day may come when the courage of Men fails, when we forsake our friends, and break all bonds of fellowship, but _it is not this day_." Aragorn shouted, his low voice loud.

"An hour of wolves and shattered shields when the Age of Men comes crashing down, but _it is not this day_!" His voice rose higher and louder, more powerful. "This day we fight!" All around me, I could sense the courage of the men come forward, shoving past the fear that was in their eyes. Their confidence was rising higher and higher.

Aragorn stopped pacing. "By all that you hold dear on this good earth, I bid you stand, Men of the West!" He raised his bloodied sword, from the Mouth of Sauron's decapitation.

The soldiers also drew their swords, a new fire in each of their hearts.

Shadowfax said, "And I too, bid you all to stand, my good war horses and friends. We fight until the end."

He raised his head, his graceful neck arching, and his dark-colored eyes cold with determination and bravery. All of the other horses, that were jittery and nervous, stopped fidgeting, and each one of them stood, alert and tense, glaring at the new evil that was marching out of Mordor, right at us.

The Orcs marched right out, unafraid of us. They began encircling us, around the army of men and horses, much to some of our dismay. The orcs leered and growled and snarled _and_ spit at us. As one of the orcs laughed at the fear on our faces, Shadowfax snorted and tossed his head high, as if a reminder that we should not show mercy or fear.

We were preparing for battle, though the army of Orcs seemed far, far, far greater than our own.

"Great Mearas, Arod." Firefoot muttered. "I think we made a mistake becoming war horses."

"No kidding?"

I felt Legolas tense, and so did Gimli. And so did everyone else.

Gimli let out a grunt. "Never thought I'd die fighting side by side with an elf." He said meekly.

Legolas looked at him, a smile on his fair face. "What about side by side with a friend?" He asked.

"Aye, I could do that." Gimli agreed.

I watched the army assemble around us, closing in on us like prey. I felt like prey, but then again - they were the prey as well. We were all prey and predators.

A great flaming Eye, watching our every move, was what terrified me the most. My hooves felt rooted to the spot I was in, as the Eye surveyed the scene in front of him, and to my horror, seemed to land on Brego.

The once crazy, wild, and insane horse froze, his breath caught in his throat. His chocolate eyes widened. I held my breath, and hoped that Brego wouldn't bolt and run. I knew I would if I were him.

But it seemed, that the Eye wasn't just looking at Brego..it was looking at...Aragorn...

Appearing momentarily tempted by the voice of Sauron, I bit my lip and watched the scene unfold towards me. Aragorn looked back at the old wizard Gandalf, who was still clutching Frodo's mithril shirt. He looked questionably at Aragorn.

Almost calmly and serenely, which sounded very odd in this situation, Aragorn said, "For Frodo."

Then, waving his sword, Aragorn rode towards the Orcs, yelling. Merry and Pippin also went after him, and then, the rest of the army.

And so, the battle at the Black Gate of Mordor began.

* * *

><p>AGH!<p>

More battle scenes to write for next chapter...good Lord, this is going to be a toughy like the Battle of the Pelennor Fields. Writing out how they kick Orc butt is, frankly, rather hard to do. Oh well, I'm an author (or an authoress) and I do this work until I'm finished...

So, don't forget to review!

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	11. Chapter 11

Oh boy, story's finishing soon! Give or take, this chapter or the next.

Enjoy and review!

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 11:

I reared up, striking an Orc backwards, and Legolas shot an arrow, still on my back. "Good hit, Arod!" He congratulated me, stroking my steaming neck of sweat. I let out a neigh of thanks.

Like Caruryn and I used to do, Legolas and I fought together. Rider and steed together make an invincible match. Separated - we fall. Maybe it was just my stubbornness that made me uncooperative. Maybe it was something about my arrogance and pride that made me act stupid. Because, after all, in time, things do change and I must change with it as well.

_That's it, Arod. Go with the flow..._

A confusion of swords, spears, arrows, and axes were everywhere. I tasted pain when I stumbled and an Orc nicked my belly with his sharp weapon. Half-blinded by a new fury, I struck out with my hind feet, trampling it. I love to trample.

_This isn't half-bad,_ I thought as I panted, before taking down an Orc that got too close to me. _But I'm already used to it, so you can't do anything about it._

_All except there are too many Orcs for me to be comfortable with. I wonder if Legolas is okay with it. _

Twisting around, I side-glanced the Elf, who hadn't shown a slightest sign of weariness or pain. I snorted. Elves. Their petty perfectness. Glowing, clean, healthy, tall, pretty - Elves. I'll never get used to them.

Grunting, I turned to another Orc before the ground slid out from underneath me. I let out a whinny as I slipped on a particular patch of wet grass. Groaning to myself, I realized that there was a dead man below me, bleeding like mad. No wonder, his face is the color of the clouds. The grass was soaked - I slipped and stumbled.

"Arod!" Legolas yelled, his foot stuck on the stirrup. He sounded exasperated.

Oops.

I scowled to myself. Men and their stupid contraptions. Why can't they ride bareback? Gandalf's done it, they should too.

The Orc advanced towards me, growling and snarling all at the same time. I grimaced at the disgusting mess it looked, and leapt up, half-slipping and sliding all over the place. Right into the Orc.

It let out a roar of confusion as I slipped on the grass, plowing into its belly, wincing at the hard plates of armor hit me. The stirrup that Legolas was stuck on was loosened, and I let out a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't stuck anymore, or else I would've had him dragging around painfully. But nor was he on my back anymore.

A _twang!_ of the arrow told me that the Elf had struck down the Orc I knocked over. I got up, shaking back my mane that got into my eyes and scanned the fields. My heart sank when I saw hundreds of more Orcs to go. But I'm tired...

My gaze caught sight of Brego and Aragorn, working side by side to defeat the Orcs. His chocolate brown eyes were focused and narrowed in concentration as he defended Aragorn against an Orc creeping up behind the Isildur's heir.

And then I saw Firefoot, his gray fur blending in particularly well with the silver armor that both men and the Orcs wore. He kicked and bucked, striking the knee of an Orc, who fell to his knees, stumbling. Then Éomer stabbed it with his sword.

Also, Shadowfax and Gandalf, bright white they were, also working together to bring down the Orcs. Not far from them were two hobbits, looking like children wearing armor and wielding blades.

Next was Patch, and Kiva. Both of them were yelling to each other, with their masters still on their backs. I blinked and swallowed past an odd feeling rising in my throat. I stared at the two of them. They were so synchronized together, kicking, rearing, bucking, biting, chopping, slicing, stabbing...

Kiva's blue eyed gaze caught mine, when she spun around to snap at another Orc approaching her. We stared at each other with wide eyes. For once, I was lost in those deep blue eyed depths...and she too, before she broke our long glance as Patch let out a whinny of anger when his master was knocked off his back.

Shaking my head, I looked somewhere else and tried to get her out of my head. _Think about her one more time, Arod, _I threatened myself, _And you'll get yourself killed. _

So I did.

I grinned.

Turns out I'm not the only one who fights with their masters.

Except...

There was a certain screech in the air that I didn't want to hear. I looked up and my heart sank even more into the shadows, drowning in evil. Nazgûl spiraled overhead, the Witch-Kings and the horrible fell beasts targeting prey. I let out a whinny as I remembered Snowmane and Théoden and that Witch-King that tried to kill him. And Éowyn...Merry too.

They were here, as well, avenging their leader's, the Witch-King of Angmar, death.

Oh no...

Then a sudden bird cry was heard. Followed by more.

I scanned the dark skies, and my gaze lit up when I saw giant eagles diving and swooping. Golden eagles plunged at the Nazgûl, stabbing at their eyes with their hooked beaks and claws. The Nazgûl fought back as well, but the eagles were clever, several of sizing up on one at a time. When one Nazgûl tried to bring down one eagle, the others ripped it off of their fellow companion and disabled it furthermore.

"Eagles! The Eagles are coming!" Somebody yelled. I grinned. Then that's good. Let them handle that on their own - I've got enough on my plate already.

Yes. That's right. The Free Peoples of Middle-Earth _kick butt_.

And ho ho ho, I knocked down several Orcs at a time, grinning. Perhaps Middle-Earth would be free once more...Oh, great Mearas.

The ground shook beneath my feet, and I spun around to see a giant troll near me. I reared up in stunned alarm, backing away. It was armed heavily, and had a long, broad sword in his right hand. Roaring fiercely, it advanced towards men, swinging its sword, knocking people off of their feet and sending them flying far.

And that's when I saw her.

Kiva.

Her silvery mane and fur stood out the most in the darkness, as the troll stabbed a certain man she was old friends with. The man let out a dying gasp before collapsing on the ground. "No!" She yelled, and she stood in front of it, guarding the man lying on the ground. It looked as if he were dead. And I think he really was.

"You want to throw my master around like some rag doll, you'll have to go through me!" She snapped at it, her cold blue eyes glaring daggers into it. I swear, her gaze has something in it that makes even a Nazgûl back away and run.

The troll, obviously, was colorblind. It didn't even see her. It let out a roar and tried to cleave her head off with his sword. Kiva yelped and ducked. _Great Mearas, what is she doing? _I squinted and saw it.

She was defending, alright. But not anyone important. In fact, she was defending her dead master.

I rolled my eyes. This was Kiva. A mighty tough, fierce and skilled war horse. Disciplined and obedient and strategic. And there she was, defending her dead master. And there was no way she could stand a single _chance_ against that troll. Though I did understand why she was doing that, and I almost stopped myself completely from helping her. She was angry. She was hurt. She was furious at fate for deciding to take out her master. She had every right to defend her dead master.

Like I was.

I was, too, angry and hurt and lost by fate. They took Caruryn, why wouldn't I be angry? But I was also blinded. Blinded by grief and fury. All I needed to do was look past that veil of sorrow and anger and see the brighter light shining.

But now wasn't the time to defend what was gone. Though there wouldn't be a master like the master Kiva had that she would want again, it was time to move on and keep moving. If fate decided who was to die and what was to happen, then so be it.

_Don't let fate change its mind and let Kiva be taken down too, _A thought in the back of my mind said to me. _If you want to act, it's best if you act now._

So I did.

I moved forward, plowing through snarling and growling Orcs, kicking them and trampling them. All I was focused on was Kiva. Get her out of harm's way.

As the troll swung his blade up to deliver a final blow, that's when I leapt into the air and knocked her aside.

"HEY!" She shouted as we tumbled into the damp and bloody grass, landing on a pile of dead men. We both got up, panting. She glared daggers at me. I seriously did back away. "Arod, what's your problem?" She snapped.

"I'm sorry - "

"I was going to kill that troll! I was defending Breothain!" I assumed Breothain was her master.

I told her, "Breothain is dead, Kiva. There's no reason why you should be defending dead men." I tried to reason her.

"But there is no reason why you should plow me aside like that, Arod - "

"No!" I yelled at her, with some anger in my voice that she probably had not had directed towards her in a while. Because no one had ever dared to stand up to this fighting female war horse with serious anger issues. "I lost my master, too, Kiva!" I snarled. The silvery-gray mare stared at me, unblinking, before turning tail and stomping away in her anger.

"Kiva!" I shouted, and sighed. I will never understand she-horses.

Kiva walked right away from Arod, who had just saved her life from that troll._ Breothain..._She thought to herself sadly. _Why did you have to go?_ She heard Arod calling her name loudly, pushing past the Orcs that were still living and snarling. Taking down a few, she tried to ignore the fact that Arod had just saved her life.

Arod was stupid. He shouldn't try to interfere with her business when she was in that sort of mood. If any horse knew better, Arod didn't. Because he was rotten, stupid, idiotic, dumb, stubborn, arrogant, proud -

_Wait._

_If any horse knew better..._Kiva thought to herself. _They would not come barging in on my fight, knocking me aside and saving my life from that troll...Arod didn't know better, but he knew better than to stand and watch me fall besides my master..._

Kiva stopped walking away and turned back to face a very tired yet patient looking Arod. "Kiva," he began, but she cut him off and said something that she hadn't said in a while. "Thanks." She grunted.

Yes, Kiva was a very proud she-war horse, but I don't think I'd ever live to hear her say "Thanks."

I opened my mouth and was once again lost in those blue-eyed depths.

"I've lost my master, too." I told her quietly, despite the roar of the war going on around us. I was surprised that no Orcs saw us or interrupted us. Weird. "Caruryn. I lost him at the battle at the Fangorn Forest with the Riders of Rohan. He was good to me, as well. He was the kindest, funniest master that I will ever have. But then I lost him, and I blamed myself. I did. And then I was given away to an Elf named Legolas. I was blinded by my sorrow and anger that I didn't see that he was only trying to help me. And then, after a while, I did. All I had to do was look away from the darkness and see the light. Because if fate decides that our masters must go, then I will accept it wholeheartedly."

Awkward silence was made between us, before she murmured so quietly that I strained myself to hear it. "Thank you, Arod, again, for everything."

And for some weird reason why, our faces were a lot closer to each other than I felt comfortable with. Her blue eyes had something more than friendliness...and our faces were closing in. _Fast_.

"Hey, Arod!"

I whirled around, sighing and gave Kiva an apologetic look and glared at Brego, whose jaw opened for about ninety leagues to the earth and beyond. His eyes lit up when he saw Kiva and I together. His mouth was open, already ready to say something to embarrass me furthermore.

"Don't..." I warned him, feeling my ears grow hot. _Did he see that whole dramatic save-Kiva-from-the-troll thing and overheard our little talk? I hope not..._

His mouth quirked a smile before the cheerfulness disappeared. "Sorry to butt in your nice little _romantic _talk," he taunted me, and I snorted while Kiva chuckled, "But Aragorn's run into the troll that you saved Kiva from...and he's sort of in trouble. Can you take five minutes from your lover and help me out?"

I let out a snort. "First off," I snapped hotly. "She is not my _lover _- "

"Yes, I've heard that before, it is nothing new, Arod - " Brego said impatiently.

"And second, of course I'll help." I looked back at her with a new smile on my face. She smiled back.

Brego trotted towards us and moved in between Kiva and I. "Stop day-dreaming and let's go." He said quickly. "Isildur's heir's life is on the line now, move, come on!"

We raced away towards the giant troll, standing tall above the others. It was easy to find Aragorn. And there he was, lying on the ground.

"Aragorn!" I shouted. "Move - " I was plowed aside by an Orc, dead. "Your butt!" I finished my sentence.

He didn't.

I shoved the dead Orc off of me, and got up, huffing and panting from the effort. You know how heavy Orcs can be?

Brego tried to get to the troll, but an Orc got to him first. He let out a neigh of exasperation.

Painfully, the troll stomped on Aragorn, on his chest. He was lucky he was wearing that armor, or else he would've been crushed to death for sure. "Arag - " I yelled before another dead Orc _and _man hit me at full force by my side, knocking me to the ground. Alright, that worked. Both Brego and I are occupied.

I watched as Isildur's heir yanked out a dagger and stabbed the troll on its foot that held him down. The troll let out a roar of pain. Didn't they wear shoes or something? I wondered.

Just as Brego helped me shove off that dead Orc and man, we leapt up to our feet, ready to help.

Eh, we were late. _Again_.

But what I saw was what I wanted to see.

We both looked towards Mordor, and saw the Eye of Sauron, crying out in pain. We could all hear it in our minds. The army of Sauron looked towards Mordor and to their Dark Lord, uncertainty and fear in their faces. Yeah, that's right. Be scared and _stayed _scared.

And then they fled. Aragorn stood up, panting and weary, with the others, and looked on, holding our breaths.

And then it happened.

The Tower of Barad-dûr slowly fell over, crumbling. The Eye of Sauron was there for a second more, fear in his gaze, before disappearing and releasing a large shockwave.

That was it.

Middle-Earth was free of Sauron's evil and dark clutches.

No more would we cower in fear of the wrath of shadows. No more would we wander in the dark forests, watching for our lives. No more would people be scared of the future. We would all walk free in the sunlight for days to come.

The army of the West cheered happily. Brego and I let out loose neighs of pleasure, and I spotted Shadowfax, Firefoot, Patch, Legolas, Aragorn, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Gandalf, and many more, delight on their faces. And my spirits were lifted even more when I saw delight on Kiva's face.

She saw me staring at her, and her smile widened. The surrounding landscape crumbled, falling in. The Black Gate fell as well, crumbling and caving in, taking much of Sauron's army in as well.

The men cheered in our victory.

Except...Mount Doom erupted in a large explosion. And much of the cheering was ceased. Dismay, shock, and alarm spread through the army as we watched Mount Doom spew lava and fire into the air, another large column of smoke billowing from it heavily.

"What?" Brego didn't get it. "Why did everybody stop cheering? Are we going to die of that lava?"

"No, stupid!" I snorted. "Frodo, and that Sam! The Ringbearers...they didn't make it out?"

Though the eruption did kill the remaining Nazgûl, to my delight, I felt the pain of others. Three eagles landed, who were circling overhead, near Gandalf. The old wizard quickly made his way towards them and mounted one of them. All three flapped their wings and lifted into the air, flying swiftly towards Mount Doom.

Not long later, the three eagles made their way back, and in two of their clutches were two small figures. Both of curly haired. One of them with brown curly hair, and the other with reddish-brown. Both looked unconscious, yet they were breathing.

And then we let loose the rest of our victory cries.

Indeed, we had made history.

* * *

><p>Middle-Earth is <em>saved<em>! Yeah! Whoohoo!

But never fear...there's still a chapter to go. May be a little short, though. ;D

Reviews make me very happy. I made brownies too. :) Have as many as you want.

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


	12. Chapter 12

_Beyond Those Dark Eyes_ indeed is coming to an end...so sad...wow, that was fast...:(

Oh well. Hope you liked this story! I may or may not do another story on LoTR...hang on, I might do Brego and one of the fell beasts...yeah, you'll never know 'til later.

For my fellow New England/East Coast friends in America: (August 25, Thursday): Eek! Take cover for Hurricane Irene! A very rare storm and hurricane coming our way. I think. Sunday's definitely raining buckets. Monday, maybe. Hope we don't flood. Just check out channel 47 or something. Gah! Must finish this chapter before then! (I did)

Yes I live in New England/East Coast area. More specifically north eastern Massachusetts. (_**GO ANDOVER**_!) So I'm not in that big of a trouble - I'm exaggerating. New Jersey's in trouble. Maybe New York too. I don't know, I'm not a meteorologist.

Hmph. First, Steve Jobs resigns, and then the earthquakes on the east coast...now a hurricane (maybe) - I think the apocalypse is on us. What's next?

Hey - on the BETTER side, maybe if we're lucky Hurricane Irene will blow some tropical birds up to Massachusetts. (Up here!) That's good...for you birdy people. Maybe I should keep my windows open...hmm...

~littledragoneyes

Chapter 12:

Must I say it again?

Yes, indeed, Middle-Earth has made history and its mark.

We got to stay in Minas Tirith for a period of time. "We", meaning Brego, Firefoot, Patch, Kiva, Legolas, Gimli, Merry, Pippin, Sam, Frodo, Gandalf, Shadowfax, Laypril, Windfola, Stybba (Merry's pony) and many others, and me of course.

Aragorn is now King of Gondor, married to an elven lady of Rivendell named Arwen. Laypril couldn't stop bragging. Help me.

Also, Faramir, who is the Steward of Gondor's second son, married Éowyn. It was very sweet. Although Éowyn liked Aragorn, she ended up marrying Faramir. Windfola couldn't stop bragging too. Help me a second time, will you?

Oh yes, Éomer became King of Rohan as well. Firefoot is bragging. Help me a third time.

Sam, Frodo, Merry and Pippin were bowed down to by King Aragorn and Queen Arwen. I mean, Stybba was bragging too about how everybody was finally shorter than those Hobbits. He's bragging.

And me?

Hello, I'm the narrator of Arod. You are all seeing this from my point of view, aren't you?

And I came all this way from Rohan, losing Caruryn and Hasufel, gaining friends, seeing life in a different way other than war, living in the moment, became friends with both a Dwarf and Elf Prince and do I get a single thing to brag about?

Nah.

Well...scratch that. I do get something to brag about.

Like, how in Minas Tirith, I found my parents again. Ember and Knight, two great war horses, now retired. Not sure why they are in Gondor, but they decided to just stay there for a while. I can still remember them laughing and celebrating my luck of how I got through the war.

"That's my boy!" Knight cheered.

So I bragged about that.

_And_, I got to brag much later, that Kiva and I were now mates for life.

Oh yes, Brego and Firefoot danced the entire night. It was amusing. Yet I didn't think so, but then it was delightful to hear myself teasing Brego and Laypril as they became mates, and Firefoot and that Ebony she-horse I don't even know too well became mates too.

My years have been exhilirating.

Though we did visit our old friends' graves.

And this year was the last we would do.

Together, Shadowfax, Brego, Laypril, Firefoot, Ebony, Kiva, and I wandered back into Rohan and all the old places. Legolas had set me free to roam Rohan as a free war horse, if you wanted to know. I'm proud to be a survivor of the War of the Ring.

"Faithful servant yet master's bane, Lightfoot's foal, swift Snowmane."

Shadowfax read to us Snowmane's tombstone, now blossoming with fresh flowers and lush green grass. We bowed our heads down, remembering our old friend who was fairly quiet. I closed my eyes and remembered when I had so willingly ducked under that wretched fell beast and let him take Snowmane instead. I was stupid that time, but fate did decide it.

After that, we went back to Rohan. I visited the place where the wolves of Isengard attacked and killed Hasufel. Though the people and horses alike were buried, I could still feel Hasufel's presence whenever I step there again, welcoming, warm and friendly.

"_You did well, Arod_," I could hear him whisper to me. "_You have saved Middle-Earth_." I closed my eyes and breathed in fresh wind and the scent of Hasufel. "No," I whispered back. "I wouldn't have won it if you weren't there to help."

"_I died half-way." _He chuckled.

"Yes, you did, but you taught me some things that if you didn't, I wouldn't have been there to save Middle-Earth."

"Who are you whispering to?" Kiva asked me, trotting up besides me and touching my cheek gently. I shook my head and looked at her. "Nothing, you're imagining it."

Kiva gave me one of those "I-know-you're-lying-but-I'll-leave-you-now" looks that I knew so well. With a smirk, we followed everybody else to our next small visit.

And much, much, later, Shadowfax said to all of us, after we visited the place where the battle at Fangorn Forest took place, "My good, faithful, friends, I'm afraid my time in Middle-Earth has come to an end." He sounded apologetic.

"What?" We all asked, dumbfounded. "You're _leaving_?"

Shadowfax looked away to the West sheepishly and my heart sank. "Yes." He said quietly. "My master, Gandalf, has decided to set sail West to Valinor. And he bids me go with him as well." I sighed.

"But you _can't_ go." Firefoot said bluntly, taking a step forward. "You just _can't_."

My mind was reeling. Shadowfax? Leaving? _Now_? No! He can't go now...

I swallowed, breathing in deeply, and remembered Caruryn and Hasufel. I nodded, much to everybody's belief, except Kiva, who seemed to understand my thoughts as well. "If that is what you want to do, Shadowfax," I said slowly. "Then may your life in Valinor be blessed and long until the end of you days."

The great white horse lord smiled when he saw me understand.

The others reluctantly agreed after some thought, murmuring their farewells.

"You were a great horse lord."

"We won't forget you."

"Ever."

"You won't forget us?"

"No," Shadowfax laughed at how childish the question sounded when it blurted out from my mouth. I, Arod, who was a full grown, mature war horse, actually said something like that. I grinned. "OF course not. Maybe I will see each one of you when I am in Valinor."

Ebony was curious. "But I thought you were going on the last ship ready to depart from the Grey Havens with the Elves."

The great white horse lord replied, "Yes. But others will not hesitate to build great grey ships and sail nonetheless." Shadowfax looked at me. "Arod, I feel you will meet me when Prince Legolas sails, soon."

I blinked. "Alright." _Then I have nothing to worry about._

For a few minutes, we were silent, just listening to the serene quietness and freedom. The wind gently caressed our faces and the tall grass tickled our feet as the wind blew it around. "Let us ride to the Grey Havens. Gandalf will be waiting." Shadowfax then decided for us, and so we agreed, walking, talking and laughing to each other there, enjoying our last time together.

When we got there, I saw a beautiful sight. White shores, with a huge grey boat waiting. Three elves, that Shadowfax explained to us were Lady Galadriel of Lórien, Lord Celeborn of Lórien, and Lord Elrond of Rivendell. And an old, familiar face. Gandalf.

The old wizard spoke to four hobbits, in which I recognized as Frodo, Sam, Merry and Pippin by their shortness and the color of their hair. All of them were crying and hugging Frodo with sorrow clear on their faces.

"Where's Frodo going?" I heard Firefoot ask Shadowfax.

"He is going overseas with us as well."

"Really?" Firefoot asked. "But he is not..."

"Elven kind?" Shadowfax laughed, his deep voice merry. "No, Firefoot. Frodo has been granted passage to go to Valinor."

I asked, "Because he destroyed the One Ring and saved Middle-Earth?"

"Not quite. You see, Frodo has been stabbed by a Morgul blade of the Witch-King of Angmar, and stabbed by Shelob, a giant spider. Also, he had to carry the burden of the Ring for so long. Poor Frodo lad has been through much pain." He paused to watch Frodo hand Sam a red book.

"And so, Frodo cannot be happy in the Shire much longer. He no longer feels the beauty of Middle-Earth, so he wants to go to Valinor. Yes, he did save the Shire - and I'm currently quoting him as he speaks to Sam - though he did not save it for himself, he did it for the other Hobbits and generations to come." Shadowfax replied.

We all watched Frodo walk up onto the ship. Gandalf looked back at us waiting horses, and whistled. Shadowfax sighed. "Here, we part." He said quietly. "I bid you all good futures and lives to come. Bless you all."

He touched noses with each of us. Then the great white horse lord trotted towards the old white wizard and boarded the ship as well.

And as the last ship to leave Middle-Earth moved forward away from the shores, we silently watched as it sailed away with the wind, to the West, to whoever knows what lies there beyond just the name "Valinor".

And then we were very quiet as we left the Grey Havens. Kiva, me, Brego, Laypril, Firefoot, and Ebonny all galloped away from the docks, heading back towards Rohan to live the rest of our lives in peace.

* * *

><p>A few years later, Edoras stables greeted two newborn foals - <em>my <em>foals, I must brag.

I am a _father_. I named them after two great soldiers of Rohan: Caruryn and Hasufel.

Great Mearas, they're _twins_. Grey like Kiva, though have dark eyes like me. Quite mischevious, like me, when I was younger as well. Stealing apples and sugar cubes from the stable boys, tripping them with those long lanky legs of theirs...whatever am I to do now?

Oh boy. "Have fun!" Firefoot smirked, taunting me playfully.

"You're babysitting." I retorted. He huffed.

* * *

><p>And sometimes in the pastures, I glance up at the sky in the calm quietness, wondering with wistful thinking. As I was gazing up at the twinkling stars stitched into the velvety dark night sky, I noticed something very peculiar.<p>

"A horse with wings?" I mused to myself. "What is a horse with wings...?"

And then I decided to name it something. Just something that would be easy to remember and call it for days to come.

"Pegasus." I whispered to myself. "After Hasufel's strange middle name."

Very strange middle name indeed.

* * *

><p>After a particularly big rainstorm, I would sometimes glance outside casually and see a big puddle of water, reflecting my white horse head. I looked old. No more was I that energetic, fiery, and restless war horse. Old age certainly takes the best of you.<p>

Though sometimes Legolas and Gimli would visit me in the old stables, they would joke around at how young Legolas still looked compared to the Dwarf and I. And sometimes we would still run around Rohan and sometimes all the way to Gondor and visit Ember and Knight - well, just Knight, because Ember died a while ago. But Aragorn - or should I say _King _Aragorn - would still ride with us on Brego, that we brought along as well, to no where in particular.

I peered outside and found my gaze locked onto a certain pair of dark eyes in the water, staring straight back at me.

And every now and then, I wonder: What are truly beyond those dark eyes?

* * *

><p>I AM FINISHED! No, not that I'm delighted that my story is finally over and I can get away from FanFiction and all, but I AM FINISHED!<p>

Oh, what shall I write next...Brego? Fell beast? Buckbeack/Nagini/Scabbers from Harry Potter? I have noooo idea...hey, how about you tell me and whichever animal gets the most votes will be the next story? No? Yes? Maybe so?

So the animals are this: Brego, Fell beast, Eagle (though that may be a short story), Buckbeak, Nagini, Scabbers...yeah, think that's it. MIght have to think some more to get more animals in, but those are your votes...

REVIEW PLEASE! :D

But it depends if I feel like doing animals or not, because I might as well just start something that has to do with a human girl named Fay...*wiggles eyebrows*

Oh well.

Cheers,

littledragoneyes


End file.
